One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry: One Wild Cowboy / A Cowboy to Marry

Her gaze swept over his cleaned-up form, making him glad he had taken the time to iron his shirt and polish his boots, instead of just showering, shaving and finding a clean change of clothes. “So do you,” she said softly.

Basking in the compliment, Dylan followed her down the stairs and into the alley behind the row of historic buildings downtown. On the other side of it was a row of slanted parking. Emily’s car was there, beside his pickup truck.

Instead of going toward the passenger side of the truck, she hesitated and looked up at him. The last of the day’s sunshine glimmered in her molasses-colored hair. He had to fight the urge to reach out and touch the soft, silky strands. “Want to walk or drive?”

“It’s a nice evening.” She caught his gaze. “It’s only a couple of blocks. How about we hoof it?”

Anything to ease the pressure in the front of his jeans. “Sounds good.”

She fell into step beside him.

He observed the pulse throbbing in her throat. “I’ve got a question.”

“Fire away.”

“This evening, are we still pretending we’re dating? Or are we now publicly owning up to being ‘just friends’?”

Her lips compressed. “Good question, since only one of my brothers has produced a potential love interest for me thus far, and my parents have ceased and desisted their matchmaking efforts entirely since we allegedly became a pair.”

“Want my advice?” Dylan asked.

She cocked her head to one side and waited.

“Unless some gal has come in and swept Shillingsworth off his feet in the past twenty-four hours or so, I very much doubt the little twerp has given up on making you his cougar.”

She elbowed him gently. “Careful, cowboy, you’re sounding a mite jealous.”

“Not jealous,” Dylan corrected. “Matter-of-fact. And I’ll lay odds Shillingsworth makes another pass at you tonight, whether he thinks I’m your date or not.”

Emily chuckled. “Enough to wager?”

“Depends on what the stakes are.”

“One home-cooked meal. Cleanup, included.”

Which meant another night alone together, wise or not. Dylan extended his hand. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “You’re on....”

* * *

THE PLACE WAS HOPPING, when Emily and Dylan reached the newest dining establishment in town. Throngs of people stood in a line that filled the old-fashioned, saloon-style porch and extended halfway down the block, and more were arriving even as Dylan and Emily joined the line. And the patrons weren’t just residents of Laramie. Emily garnered from the bits of conversation floating around, they were flocking in from all around the county.

And why not? The Cowtown Diner oozed excitement.

Exterior speakers played popular country and western music. A waitstaff of college-and high-school-age kids kept tabs on the activity with wireless headsets, while less experienced staff circulated among the waiting area with platters of free appetizers and tumblers of lemonade, water and iced tea.

Despite herself, Emily was impressed.