Dark Horse: Bad Boy Cowboy Romance (18 page)

I blinked back at her. "What about him?" I replied, surprised to hear how slurred my words sounded.

"Well, uh, what'd he say when he heard about, about all this?"

"I dunno," I said, after considering the question from a couple of different angles. "I didn't tell him. I haven't seen him. Since, this morning, when he kissed me!" I giggled at the memory.

"No, you, you said that you kissed him!" Dahlia giggled along with me, and we both clinked our glasses together to cheers each other. It took a couple of swings before our glasses connected, but we managed.

As I set the glass back down, trying - and failing - to not spill the last little bit of liquid inside, I sighed. "I don't know, Dolla. I mean Dolly. Lance is nice, and he's so strong and protecting - protection - protective, but what can I do? Just tell Marsden, like, 'we're done,' and jump right on Lance?"

"Yeah, girl!" Dahlia retorted, grinning broadly. "Isn't he all strong and studly like that horse of his? You should, should get on him and ride him like one! Or, heh, bend over and let him ride you!"

I tried to picture it, but I just saw the man putting a saddle on me, and dissolved into laughter. "I'm more worried about the wedding," I groaned, as the laughter subsided.

"What wedding? It's done! You can't marry him - he's an asshole!"

"Yeah, I know he's an asshole," I retorted, waving my glass for emphasis. "But I've already paid for all the stuff! The wedding stuff! I put down money for the place, with the horses, and a deposit for the caterer to do stuff! What am I going to do with all the food and place and things?"

Dahlia shrugged, nearly toppling out of the booth. "You could have a party? Yeah! A 'Hooray I finally dumped the bastard' party! Everyone could come and talk about what a bastard that guy was!"

I stared at my friend, trying to figure out how to respond to this suggestion, but now that she'd started, Dahlia kept on talking. "Yeah! And then you could invite Lance, too, and then get up in front of everyone, but instead of getting married, you could just kiss him and tell him to take you right then and there!"

My mouth dropped open in shock. That wasn't where I was expecting that sentence to go! "What?" I stammered out dumbly.

Dahlia, however, just grinned at me, leaning over towards me so that she could elbow me. She spilled a good amount of her drink as she did so, but she kept on leaning until her elbow finally bumped up against me. "Come on, Gilly! You need to lighten up. When's the last time you even got laid?"

"Recently!" I shouted back, but she waved this off.

"Nah, Marsden doesn't count. Cheaters don't count. And we'd all cheer to watch you get some!" Dahlia grinned evilly at my obvious discomfort, leering as though she was picturing me naked and in a very compromising position right here and now.

"Dolly, stop it," I finally managed. I glanced up blearily at the dingy windows in the front of the Pink Panther. "God, I'm so drunk. How am I going to get home?"

"Ooh! I know. Lemme see your phone, and I'll call you a lift."

I blinked as I turned towards Dahlia. "Why do you need my phone for it?"

"So they know who they're coming for, silly! Duh!" she replied, reaching out and snatching my purse up from where it sat on the booth's bench beside me. "Here. I'll go call, and pay the bill. You just sit."

Without giving me a chance to reply, my best friend stood up, triumphantly holding my phone aloft, and staggered over to the bar. I watched her go, wishing that I had her confidence, her breezy certainty that I'd move past this.

Inside me, I certainly didn't feel over things yet. Even though I'd already branded Marsden as an asshole and a cad inside my head, I still couldn't quite think of him as being in my past, couldn't quite accept that the two of us as a couple were done. I still somehow thought that I'd end up with him. So much of my future picture of myself was with him, growing old with him, spending years and years going to parties on his arm, even raising kids while he headed off to work every morning.

I'd built up an entire picture of our life together, and now that whole picture was gone.

Instead, I could feel a black void gaping in front of me. Right now, my future held nothing, simply because I didn't know what to put there. Would I end up never finding someone else, growing old on my own? Maybe I shouldn't try and fight it, I thought darkly to myself. It's probably time for me to just take the plunge, adopt four or five cats, and accept the fact that I'd eventually be found dead in my house, my face eaten off by my former pets.

Or maybe I could take a page out of Lance's playbook. I could just ride away, get on Merlot and head off into the sunset, leaving it all behind.

That was a nice idea, very romantic, but the realist in my head pointed out that it wouldn't work. I definitely didn't have the strength or internal hardness, the inner determination, that Lance possessed. I'd probably end up dying of a broken leg or something after just a week out on my own.

Maybe I could get Lance to come with me, I considered. He could ride with me, and the two of us would just explore the wilderness together. That was a nicer idea.

More realistically, I soon amended that thought, he'd take off alone, and I'd just keep on tagging after him and bothering him until he eventually started taking care of me because the only other option was to leave me to die.

My thoughts were interrupted by Dahlia's return, holding my phone out in front of her and looking triumphant. "Your ride will be here soon!" she announced, grinning at me. "But until he gets here, finish your last drink! I paid for that, you know!"

I frowned at her. Something about my friend's grin looked a little too pleased, like a cat with a mouthful of canary. "What did you do?"

"Easy! I called the cab company," she began, plopping down in the booth once again.

I began to relax. A cab wouldn't be too bad-

"-and sent them out to your house to pick up Lance, and drive him back here!" she finished, bouncing on the seat.

My eyes went wide. "What!? Dolly, no! I don't want to see him at all! I don't need him to rescue me!"

"Oh, relax," she chided me. "I called him first. Before I told him I'd send a cab, he was practically ready to come running down here to drive you back." She leveled a finger at me, even though the finger didn't remain too level. "He really does like you, even though you won't recognize it."

A part of me wanted to keep on yelling at Dahlia, but it wouldn't accomplish anything. Instead, I just gave her my best sulking glare as I finished off my drink, a glare which she totally ignored. If anything, she smiled a little bit, knowing that I felt uncomfortable.

Depressingly soon, I heard the bell over the front door to the Pink Panther jingle, and I spotted Lance standing just inside when I glanced up. He looked over, saw me, and started over towards the table.

"Hey - your friend told me that you needed a ride home?" he asked, glancing sidelong at Dahlia. Dahlia gave him a little finger-wiggling wave, accompanied by a wink that made me itch to smack some sense into her. Lance, however, just frowned for a moment before returning his attention back to me.

"Yeah," I agreed, standing up - although I had to keep one hand on the table to ensure that I didn't fall over. "She got me kinda drunk."

"You're welcome!" Dahlia shouted back at me.

I rolled my eyes as I turned back to Lance. "Okay. Take me home."

"Sure." He took a step away, but then returned and lent me a hand to help keep me from falling. "Anything you want to do when we get back?"

I knew that Dahlia was opening her mouth to insert a smart response, so I cut her off before she could speak. "Yeah, there is," I said. "I think I want to have a bonfire. A big one. I've got a bunch of stuff to burn."

Lance frowned, but he didn't ask any further questions as he helped me outside and into the passenger seat of my truck.

As I felt his arms slip around me to make sure I fastened my seat belt, I did have to smile. I certainly wasn't going to let the man "ride me", as Dahlia had suggested, but he did smell nice, as he leaned in close to me.

Maybe I could find a way to kiss him again.

Chapter twenty-eight

Back home, I immediately set to work. I stumbled into the house, found a large plastic container, and began filling it up with pictures and other items from around the farmhouse.

Lance pretended to ignore me at first, but I could feel him watching, and after a few minutes of following me around (presumably to make sure I didn't drunkenly collapse and pass out somewhere), he finally spoke up.

"So, it looks like the ending with Marsden didn't go so well."

"Understatement of the century," I growled back, as I pulled a framed picture of Marden and I off of the wall and hurled it down into the container with the rest of the junk. "What an utter ass. God, I can't even imagine what I saw in him in the first place!"

I could feel my anger returning, hot and fiery, but suddenly Lance's arms slid around me from behind, resting gently on my hips.

"I can," he murmured to me. "He might be an ass, but he was strong, connected, with enough money and power to make sure you're happy and treated right. That's the sort of man that a woman like you would be attracted to."

I froze. Lance's words went deep into me, and I couldn't believe that I found myself agreeing with them. But something about how he said it bothered me.

There was a distinct note of melancholy in the man's voice, I realized. He sounded as though he knew that these characteristics were true - and it saddened him. But why?

I realized the answer a second later. Lance knew what sort of qualities I sought out in a man - but he didn't see those same qualities in himself!

I spun around in the man's hands, feeling them slide around my waist as I turned to face him. "Lance, stop it!" I burst out, looking up at him. The turning made me a little dizzy, but I caught myself - and his hands on my hips helped keep me from falling.

His eyes were slightly widened for a moment when I turned to face him, but he quickly recovered. "What?"

"You're not- those aren't-" I started, but faltered, not sure how to respond.

Already, though, his eyes were dropping down, refusing to meet mine. "Gilly, you don't have to convince me of anything. I know that, even though he didn't turn out to be right for you, Marsden is more the class of man that you need to find in order to be happy-"

Before he could say anything more, however, I cut him off with a kiss.

When I pulled back from the kiss, I could see surprise reflected in the man's face - but at least he'd stopped talking! After a moment, however, he dropped the surprised look, and his hands tightened around my waist to pull me back in for another.

The first kiss had been light, just enough to get the man to stop talking.

This second kiss, however, contained a lot more heat - and as Lance pulled me up against him, I could feel my toes curling inside my shoes. As I pressed myself against his chest, one of his hands slid up as the other descended. His right hand pressed against my shoulder blades, holding me close - as the other one grabbed a handful of my ass!

I yelped a little as he pinched me as we broke apart, but I grinned back at him, unabashed. "As long as it shuts you up!" I shot at him. "Gah, I'm the one who's drunk and supposed to be babbling! Not you!"

For a moment, I saw a slight little hint of a smile appear - but it was almost immediately gone again. "I'm sorry," he said, and I felt his hands loosen. "I shouldn't be saying anything."

But still, I could see that, although he was apologizing for speaking up, he wasn't backing down from his stance. That was what I truly disagreed with, not him speaking his mind! I tried to frantically think of a way to express this to him, but I couldn't manage to come up with anything.

So instead, I reached up with one hand and slapped him.

It wasn't a hard hit - just a light little tap. It was enough to make Lance widen his eyes and refocus on me, at least.

"Just help me get the rest of this stuff downstairs and outside so that I can have my bonfire," I commanded. "And then, hopefully I'll be sober enough to tell you how wrong you are!"

Lance reached up and pretended to rub his cheek where I'd hit him. "Only because I don't want to get hit again," he said, but he smiled again, even if just ever so slightly, as he spoke these words.

"Do it fast, and maybe I'll kiss you again instead!" I retorted.

That comment didn't produce a reply, but it at least got another little smile out of the man as he bent down and picked up the plastic container, carrying it downstairs for me.

Left alone upstairs, I gathered up the remainder of items and memories that Marsden had given me, tossing them into a pile on the bed. I tried to no rush myself, hoping that more of the drunken fog would manage to drain out of my head.

What in the world had gotten into Lance? He thought that he didn't deserve me? What, because he didn't have tens of thousands of dollars to his name, and he didn't own his own big company? Didn't he understand that I didn't give a damn about Marsden's social status, or his money?