Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders #15)(131)

“And? Or should I say…but?”


“I haven’t told Dalton about any of the job applications. I’ll admit I had an ulterior motive at first for keeping it to myself. But after handling this special project, I’ve regained some of the confidence I lost after feeling unemployable for months.” She laughed. “When it rains, it pours, huh? I have three interviews in three days and in the past nine months I couldn’t even get one place I applied to call me back.”


“I have faith in you in finding the right career path—even if that path leads you away from here.” Her mom touched her knee. “I never expected you’d settle in Sundance permanently.”


“But?” Rory prompted.


“But what will you do if you don’t get any of those positions? They’d be a fool not to hire you. Granted, as your mother I’m a little biased.”


Rory shoved aside the papers. “It’s hard not to get my hopes up. So the answer is…I don’t know.” And she couldn’t share the other problem dogging her; if she picked Dalton for the permit, he’d be stuck in Sundance another two years.


Problem was, she loved Dalton—not that she’d told him. After everything that’d gone on with his family, Rory didn’t see Dalton leaving here. He’d been killing time in Montana, waiting for the right time to return home to Wyoming.


So even if she didn’t choose his land for the elk program, he’d find another use for it because he had his brothers’ full support. And it would be the ultimate test on whether he’d choose her. Whether he really had changed and meant everything he’d said about them belonging together.



“Rory?”


She glanced at her mom. “Sorry I’m a little spacey.”


“It’s okay. I want you to do what makes you happy, sweetheart. Wherever that may be and whoever you might be with.”


“Meaning…you don’t think Dalton—”


“What matters is what you think. But more importantly, it matters what you do.” Her mom grabbed the empty bottles and stood. “One thing’s for sure, you’ll have plenty of time to think about it with all the time you’ll spend in the car the next few days.”


“Thanks Mom.”


“Anytime.”


Chapter Thirty


Rory showed up on Dalton’s doorstep a week later. Although they’d kept in touch, it’d been two long weeks since she’d seen him.


She knocked on the door.


Dalton opened it and stared at her like she was an apparition. He said, “You’re here,” and crushed her against his chest. His mouth found hers, and he kissed her with surety and tenderness. With love. With passion. This kiss was perfect. So perfect how he knew exactly what she needed. A girly rush of emotions pushed front and center and she just about blurted out that she loved him when he broke the kiss. Just to be safe, Rory kept her face tucked in his neck.


“I wasn’t expecting you.”


“I like to keep you on your toes.”


“And I like to keep you on your back.”


She lightly punched him in the stomach and he laughed.


Then he nuzzled her ear. “I missed you like crazy, Rory.”


As much as Rory took comfort in that, her belly fluttered with nerves. “I missed you too, McKay. I just finished up the last of the paperwork for the special project. I thought I’d swing by. So we could talk.”


“Is this a coffee conversation? Or a whiskey conversation?”


“Got the makings for an Irish coffee conversation.”


“Compromise. I like that about you.” Dalton took her hand and pulled out a chair at the breakfast bar. “Sit. I’ll start the coffee.”


She dropped her satchel on the chair next to her. “Tell me about your day.”


“Not much to tell. I spent the day doin’ my Cinderella imitation cleaning this place now that all the remodeling is done.”


“Looks great. I love that you’re comfortable enough in your masculinity that you don’t see cleaning as demeaning.” She groaned. “Unintentional rhyme, I swear.”


Dalton grinned. “Glad to hear it. I worried maybe you’d secretly been penning poetry.”


“Dealing with government regulations has sucked every ounce of verbal creativity out of my soul.”


“I imagine.” He grabbed two coffee mugs. Poured a generous slug of whiskey in each one.


“It smells clean in here. Sometimes I wonder if my house smells like dog.” Way to babble. Maybe you could ask him what product he used that left behind the lemony fresh scent.


“Not that I’ve noticed.” His gaze pinned hers. “Why you acting so nervous?”


“Because I am. I have something to tell you.”


Dalton crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”


“Depends.”


“So this paperwork you finished up… That means you’ve made your final decisions on who gets awarded the permits?”