True Love at Silver Creek Ranch - By Emma Cane Page 0,108

the only man at a table by himself. He was directly in her line of vision, making it hard to notice anything else. He was tall, by the length of his denim-clad legs. Beneath the shadowing brim of his cowboy hat, she could see an angular face and the faint lines at the corner of his eyes of a man who spent much of his day squinting in the sun. She thought he might be older than her thirty years but not by much.

When he tipped his hat back and met her eyes, Emily gave a start, realizing she’d been caught staring. It had been so long since she’d looked at any man but her ex-husband. Her face got hot, and she quickly pulled the slightly sticky menu out from its place between a napkin dispenser and a condiment basket.

A shadow loomed over her, and for a moment, she thought she’d given the cowboy some kind of signal. Maybe her presence alone in a bar late at night was enough.

But it was only the bartender, who gave her a tired smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She almost said a Diet Coke, but the weariness of the day overtook her, and she found herself ordering a beer. She studied the menu while he was gone, remembered her lack of funds, and asked for a burger when he returned. Some protein, some carbs, and with lettuce and tomato, it made a pretty well-rounded meal. She had to laugh at herself.

“I didn’t know the menu was that funny,” said a deep voice.

Not the bartender. Emily glanced up and met the solitary cowboy’s gaze. Even from one table over, she could see the gleam of his green eyes. His big hand lifted a bottle of beer to his lips, yet he never stopped watching her.

Was a cowboy trying to pick her up in a mountain bar? She blinked at him and tried to contain her smile. “No, I was smiling at something else,” she said, trying to sound polite but cool.

To her surprise, the cowboy simply nodded, took another swig of his beer, and glanced back at the TV. She did the same, drinking absentmindedly and trying to pretend she liked baseball. Her ex-husband had been a fan of the San Francisco Giants, so she’d gone to an occasional game when one of the partners couldn’t attend.

By the time her hamburger arrived, she’d finished her beer. The cowboy was watching her again, and she recklessly ordered another. Why not? Though she hadn’t eaten much today, the burger would certainly offset the alcohol. Hungrily, she dug in. The two men at the bar started to play darts, and she watched them for a while. The cowboy did, too, but he watched her more.

She studied him back. “Don’t cowboys have to get up early? You’re out awful late.” What was she doing? Talking to a stranger in a tavern?

But she was away from home, and everything she’d thought about herself had gone up in flames this past year. Her belly had warmed with food and the pleasant buzz of her second beer. Emily Murphy would never talk to a man in a bar—but Greg had made sure she didn’t feel like Emily Murphy anymore. Changing back to her maiden name would be a formality.

And then the cowboy gave her a slow smile, and she saw the dimples that creased the leanness of his cheeks and the amusement hovering in those grass green eyes. “Yes, ma’am, it’s well past my bedtime.”

She bit her lip, ready to finish her burger and scurry back to her car, like the old, properly married Emily would have done. But she wasn’t that person anymore. A person was made up of what she wanted, and everything Emily had thought she wanted had fallen apart. She was becoming a new woman, an independent woman, who didn’t need a husband, or a mother, to make a success of her life.

But tonight, she was also just a single woman in a bar. And who was that hurting if she was? She could smile at a man, even flirt a bit. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the part, in her black sweater and jeans, but the cowboy didn’t seem to mind looking at her. She felt a flush of reaction that surprised her. How long had it been since she’d felt desirable instead of just empty inside? Too long.

“You’ll hear this a lot if you stick around,” the cowboy continued, “but you’re a stranger