Aidan: Loyal Cowboy

What he needed to do was take a page from Midnight’s book and woo Flynn. Patiently and persistently. Practice that tenacity his mother had mentioned.

Removing his cell phone from his belt, he dialed Flynn’s number. She answered on the fourth ring. Had she been considering not taking his call?

“Hey, it’s Ace. Did I catch you at work?” He’d forgotten evenings were the best time to reach her.

“It’s all right, I’m on break.”

He noted the hint of reservation in her voice but didn’t let it deter him.

“I was wondering, are you free tomorrow evening?”

“What’s up?”

“Pizza and wings at the Brick Oven.” The restaurant was one of her favorites. “Unless you’d like to eat somewhere else?” A long pause followed. “Flynn? You still there?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“I am.”

“Is there something you want to discuss?”

“No, I just want to take you out to eat.”

“We’re not, um, romantically involved.”

They could be, if she gave them a chance.

“It’s dinner. Between two people who happen to be having a baby and working toward establishing a healthy, solid relationship.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on. You have to admit, things have been tense between us lately. Enjoying a casual meal on neutral territory will do us good.”

Another longer pause followed. “O…kay.”

Ace was glad she couldn’t see the huge smile he wore. “What time are you off work?”

“Six.”

“Is seven too early?”

“Seven’s fine. But we can’t have pizza. Spicy food doesn’t sit well with me these days.”

“Where’d you like to go?”

“It’s beef Stroganoff night at the Number 1 Diner.”

The place where it all started. Interesting that she would choose it.

“Great. And I promise, nothing but food’s on the menu.”

No kissing, no sneaking into her bedroom, no incredible, mind-bending sex.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she warned.

“See you tomorrow.”

He disconnected, his good mood restored. He had a dinner date with Flynn, and Midnight was settling in with his harem of mares.

Ace’s day couldn’t get any better.

Chapter Eight

The smell of impending rain struck Flynn the moment she stepped from Ace’s truck. She’d remembered a coat but forgotten an umbrella. Getting wet, however, was the least of her worries.

She and Ace were having dinner.

Not that they hadn’t eaten together before—when they’d dated, of course, and on occasions when she’d joined the Harts for birthdays and holidays.

Then there had been the night of their indiscretion. Hard to believe that was almost two months ago.

“It’s crowded,” Ace commented as they strolled across the parking lot to the diner’s front entrance.

“The beef Stroganoff special is always popular.”

The potpie special was also popular, which is what the restaurant had been serving the night Ace went home with her.

How in the world had that even happened?

She’d been on a date. Correction, was supposed to have been on a date. The guy had called at the last second, after she’d arrived at the diner to meet him, and canceled. Something about his clothes dryer malfunctioning. Seriously? She’d tried to convince herself she didn’t care. He wasn’t anyone important, she’d only agreed to go out with him because a mutual friend had set them up.

Rather than leave, Flynn had stayed and ordered dinner. To spite him, she supposed, and because she was hungry.

Ace had dropped by the diner on his way home from treating a yearling filly with a severe respiratory infection.

“Two tonight?” The hostess’s question startled Flynn, returning her to the present. “Follow me.” The woman grabbed two menus and escorted Flynn and Ace to a table that couldn’t possibly be any more out in the open.

She cringed inside as Ace pulled out her chair. Discreetly scanning the room, she counted three familiar faces, nodding in response to their smiles of recognition. It could be worse. At least none of the Hart ranch hands were there.

Why had she suggested this place? She’d have been better off with pizza and wings and a case of heartburn.

She fingered the edge of the menu as she studied it, which was ridiculous since she knew the offerings by heart.

“Evening, folks.” Their waitress, all of eighteen and cute as a button, flashed them a dimpled smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Ace waited for Flynn to order first.

“Umm…” Iced tea was out of the question, unfortunately. “Lemonade,” she said with a sigh.