Page 50 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

I glance toward it, then back at her. “You know, most people see a storm rolling in and decide it’s a great time to be somewhere with walls.”

Arizona follows my gaze toward the dark sky. “I came out looking for inspiration.”

“How’s that working out?”

She tilts her head. “I got several pages.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

I nod toward the flooded street. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like inspiration tricked you into standing outside while nature attempts a hostile takeover.”

A laugh escapes her before she can stop it. “That’s a very cynical interpretation.”

“It’s a very dry interpretation. Or at least it was until I rolled down the window.”

Arizona presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh again. “I thought the rain would pass.”

As if the universe hears her challenge and takes it personally, thunder cracks overhead with enough force to shake the storefront windows.

We both look up.

Rain intensifies.

Arizona winces. “Okay,” she says. “In fairness, that timing was rude.”

“That’s the storm’s way of calling you optimistic.”

“And what’s your explanation for stopping?”

I glance at her, then at the notebook she’s still protecting with her entire body. “Professional concern.”

“Professional?”

“Sure. If those song lyrics dissolve, you’ll probably wander into traffic looking for replacements.”

She laughs again, shaking her head. “You’ve got a surprisingly dramatic view of me.”

“No. I have an accurate one.” I reach across the cab and unlock the passenger door. “Get in.”

Arizona climbs into the truck.

The storm follows her inside.

Water drips from her hat, her jacket, her sleeves, and probably several places that shouldn’t physically hold that much rain. Within seconds, the floor mat looks like it’s considering a career as a pond.

She notices and grimaces. “Sorry about this.”

I wave the apology away and pull back onto the street. “You’re fine.”

“I just soaked your truck.”

“This vehicle has transported sheep, cattle, chickens, three terrified goats, and one pig with serious anger management issues. You’re nowhere near the worst passenger I’ve had.”

That earns another laugh.

For reasons I don’t entirely care to examine, the sound settles somewhere pleasant in my chest.