Page 78 of Cowboy

“Want to dance?”

I glance around as there isn’t really a dance floor. “Here?” I question. There’s hardly space between tables, and I’m almost double my size.

“Right here,” Bull suggests. He stands, and I follow, wrapping my hand into his as his arm comes around my waist. I need to stand almost sideways to him, but he’s somehow still tucked me into him. We listen to the harmony about fools rushing into love and how it can’t be helped, and the song is the theme for Bull and me. We remain quiet as Bull sways me back and forth, and my cheek rests near his heart, which races wildly in his chest.

My eyes scan the room again, finding another pair of men I recognize, but I close my eyes to them, swallowing up this moment before all hell breaks loose.

When the song ends, I glance up at Bull.

“Thank you,” I whisper, and his brow furrows once more.

“For what?” he says.

“For loving me.” He hasn’t said it to me. He might never admit it, but I want him to know that no matter how he labels it, this is love. What he’s done for me, how he treats me, who he is, has to be love.

“Scarlett, I—”

“I need some air.” Immediately, I sense I’ve made a mistake and excuse myself.

I step out to the patio where propane heaters warm the area, lessening the October chill. I approach the railing, looking out over the river. It feels ironic that I’m standing here, facing the same flowing water where I broke the news to Bull that I was pregnant. Slowly, I scan the surrounding patio finding the two men I recognized inside taking a seat at a table in the corner, closer to a space heater. Through the opening of the door, I can hear Canyon crooning through another song. This one I don’t recognize as well.

The air remains cool, but pregnancy weight keeps me warm as I wait out one more song.

Come on, I mutter to myself, counting once again on a foolish man in the bar. Keeping my back to the entrance, I tap my fingers on the railing as the music softly lulls out to the patio.

“With a name like Scarlett, you and I are better suited for one another.” Tipping back, I make eye contact with the men across the patio. Just want to make certain someone has me in their sights as I spar with this man.

“Redd.” I chuckle softly but don’t finish my giggle before the entrance door to the main bar opens, and Bull stalks toward me.

“Get out of here, Redd,” Bull demands, and the sheepherder turned woodcarver chuckles.

“Feeling threatened?” he teases.

“Bull would never need to feel that way,” I state, catching Bull’s eyes finally. “He knows I have staying power.”

Redd huffs and turns on his heels, and I reach out for Bull’s wrist. “But Redd, I’m curious if you’ve ever heard of Lex Steinman.” Redd stills and turns back to face me. In the dark of the night, only the fire lamps illuminate the space plus a dim outdoor light. Still, the pinch of Redd’s face is evident.

“Can’t say that I have?”

“Scarlett,” Bull hisses beside me, but I squeeze tighter at his wrist.

“What about MoosHaveRights2? Ever hear of that group?” I question. Redd rolls his head back a bit and glares at me.

“Everyone’s heard of the group. What are you going on about?” he questions.

“Don’t speak to Scarlett like that,” Bull warns, and everything in his voice drips malice. I’ve never heard him so gruff, and it’s a bit titillating while scary at the same time.

“Redd, when was the last time you were on Eaton property?”

“Scarlett,” Bull hisses once more.

“Say that back field.”

Redd seethes.

“The field you want to share with the Eatons.”

Bull doesn’t comment.