Obsessed Cowboy (Whiskey Run Cowboys Love Curves 1) - Page 7

I purse my lips, knowing I need to tell the truth even though I don’t really want to. “Uh, yeah, I did actually. Earlier this week.” She must have told him about meeting me. I’m waiting for the warning to stay away from her or for him to tell me I’m not good enough. I put my hands in my front pockets, waiting for it.

He tilts his head to the side and looks up at me. “My daughter’s important to me.”

I nod. “I’m sure she is. She’s... special,” I tell him without even blinking. I barely know her, but I know it’s the truth. She can’t light up a room and sing like an angel and not be special.

He squeezes my shoulder. “Good. I’m glad you realize it. She’s been a little down this week.”

“Why? What happened?” I ask him fiercely. Did someone mess with her or upset her? Just the thought of it has me pissed off and ready to fight.

“Well, she wouldn’t talk to me about it, but I told her that the guy she met... well, I’m sure he would call her.... He, well, you didn’t call her.”

I clear my throat. “And you would be all right with me calling her?”

He finally releases my shoulder and pats it. “I told you that you are a good man, Carter. Just don’t prove me wrong.”

I nod in understanding. “I won’t, sir.”

“Call me Blake. Now let’s go and eat.”

I look toward the back, and he sees me. He pushes me toward the front of the church. “Come on now. Janie will be out in a few minutes.”

I don’t have any choice to follow him out. I’ve waited almost five days to see her; surely I can last another few minutes.

4

Janie

I knew through the whole service, listening to my father’s sermon, that there was something different about today. I sat there the whole time trying not to let my mind wander, but no matter how hard I tried, I kept going back to the other day when I met Carter at the co-op.

He never called. I didn’t expect him to; it’s not like he asked me for my phone number or anything like that. But I really expected to see him. However, not at church. As soon as I sat down at the piano, I could feel his eyes boring into me, and I knew it was him. I felt the exact same when his eyes were on me at the co-op. I struggled with the notes at first, but finally found my footing at the piano and eventually was able to lose myself in the music. I barely ended the last note, and I turned my head to find him in the congregation. I didn’t have to search long or hard. He was right there and so close I could feel the heat spreading through my body. After a quick nod for the applause and my father started the closing sermon, I was out of there.

I walked as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself. As soon as I got to the back door, I entered the secretary’s office and shut the door behind me. She has a private bathroom, so I go in there and shut that door too. My palms are sweaty, my heart’s racing, and there’s a tug in my lower belly that doesn’t feel like I’m sick, but I really can’t explain it. I feel like I’m having a panic attack, but I know I’m not. I lift my eyes to the mirror over the sink and suck in a breath. My hair has come loose and is framing my face. My eyes are huge in my pale face, and I turn side to side, trying to figure out what’s different about me but not able to really tell. I look at my dark brown eyes with the flecks of gold that have stared back at me my whole life. That’s what’s different. They’re darker. I move closer to the mirror, turning my face side to side, all the time staring at my eyes. They’re hooded, and I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands. I’m turned on. That’s what I’m seeing. The sweaty hands and the weird rhythm of my heart—it explains it all.

I put my hands on the sink’s edge and lean on it, mesmerized by the look on my face. If I walk out to the potluck, are people going to notice it? Will they know what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling? Is it really that noticeable? Will Carter see it?

I shake my head. He’s probably already gone.

I straighten my spine. I know I can’t hide in the bathroom all day. I’m supposed to be helping host the meal. I straighten my cardigan, run a hand through my hair to smooth the edges, and paste a smile on my face. All right, Janie, you can do this.

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