She said, “I guess it depends whether this is a fling or a relationship.”
She definitely had his attention now. He took a drink of Scotch, keeping his eyes on her. He wasn’t saying anything, but he was paying attention, apparently hoping she had more to say.
“If this is a fling, maybe secrets aren’t such a big deal. But if this is a relationship, then secrets are no good.”
She’d said what she wanted to say and sat back. She took a drink and studied him back. She wasn’t going to say anything else until he spoke. The warm, late summer afternoon felt good. Molly was still basking in the afterglow of great sex. The Scotch had created a lovely buzz. She liked having him there, and she liked looking at him. He seemed happy to be there. But this wasa conversation that needed to happen. The silence lasted a long time until a wry smile formed on his face.
“I write books.”
Molly tried not to flinch. Flinching wasn’t something a cowgirl did. Cowgirls were tough, poker faced, rarely showing surprise. But, shewassurprised. Couldn’t have been more surprised. He was a writer. Really?
“You write books?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your secret business?”
“Yes.”
“Who knows about this?”
“You and me, my literary agent, editors, proofreaders, my publisher.”
“Your family?”
“No.”
“Gloria?”
“Gloria knows I’m writing. She doesn’t know my pen name and hasn’t read anything.”
“You write under a pen name?”
“Yes.”
Molly wanted to know the pen name but decided not to press her luck. Maybe right now it was enough to know that he was a writer. She wasn’t sure how much more she’d be able to pull out of him.
“What do you write?”
“Western adventure stories.”
“What authors write similar stories?”
“Jack London, Zane Grey, Ivan Doig, Wallace Stegner, Louis L’Amour. I don’t write at that quality, but those are writers I read and admire.”
“Full-length novels?”
“Short stories and full length.”
“You have a literary agent and a publisher?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been writing?”
“I started in college but didn’t pick up the professional help until after the Army.”
Pure Bart. He wasn’t volunteering a thing, but he was answering her questions. Might as well keep rolling.
