The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire’s Secret Baby(86)

And that had been the one and only time he’d ever danced with a woman. Dancing had never been his thing, and he still wasn’t sure why it had been different at prom, but somehow, it had been.

“It is prom.” He’d taken her hand. “We probably should dance at least once, right?”

She’d smiled, letting him lead her out onto the floor. “I thought you’d never ask.”

One dance turned into three, and before they’d known it, the deejay announced that it was the last song of the night, and Matt had actually been disappointed to see it end. He still couldn’t believe now that it had never crossed his mind to kiss her under those lights, but he was glad he hadn’t. That night was perfect as it was—he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Here on the country club’s patio, gazing out into the stillness, he couldn’t help getting a little misty-eyed at the memory. Not just the memory, but how much it emphasized her absence now. Every time a door opened or a pair of high-heeled shoes click-tapped across the cobbles, he expected a hand on his shoulder, and every time that hand didn’t come, his chest tightened a little more. He wanted her to be here. Not so she could be subjected to Coolidge glares and whispers behind hands, but because he missed her. Being here without her tonight felt about as natural as if he’d gone to their prom alone—that was one memory that simply didn’t exist without her smile, her playful wit.

And in the back of his mind, he saw her there under the disco lights. It was the first time he’d ever seen her in makeup besides a horse show, and her hair had been pulled up so only a few strands tumbled onto her bare shoulders. He hadn’t noticed back then how perfectly that strapless green dress had fit her, but he’d loved how her farmer’s tan had made the whole look…Dara. Elegant with a dash of tomboy. He couldn’t imagine spending that evening with anyone but her, and standing here now, at a black-tie wedding full of stunning single women, he couldn’t imagine spending this one without her either.

Oh my God. What the hell is going on?

What was going on was that he didn’t want to be here. He liked weddings, and he liked his cousin, and for the moment, even the crowd wasn’t bothering him too much. But this wasn’t where he wanted to be. He didn’t want to be home alone. He didn’t want to be out with Julie. He didn’t even want to be staring up at the sky from the bed of his truck.

Tonight, quite possibly because it was the furthest thing from a black-tie wedding and an endless stream of single women, the only thing that piqued his interest was the idea of sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table and an Xbox controller in his hand, talking shit with the foul-mouthed woman of his dreams.

His heart sped up, and suddenly the patio’s fresh air was no less suffocating than the stuffy ballroom.

I need her. Now.

It was true, wasn’t it? He needed Dara tonight. Not just as his escape route or his sanity check. He needed her. That wicked sense of humor. The way she knew better than anyone in the world how to make him laugh, and also when he really didn’t want to laugh. The way she could look at him and make everyone else in the room disappear.

And that escape route she’d offered and the sanity checks she always did, those just underscored everything. After all these years, not only did Dara still understand his limits, and not only did she accept those limits without judgment, she’d offered him an out tonight.

Which begged the question—why the hell was he still here?





Chapter Twenty-Four


Dara leaned against the counter while she waited for the microwave to go off, but she couldn’t stay still. Aside from the quiet humming of her Hot Pockets being nuked, the house was eerily silent, and it was driving her nuts. Matt hadn’t been here the last few nights, so this shouldn’t have been any different, but it was. Because he wasn’t only not here, he was at a wedding. Likely surrounded by single women.

She didn’t envy him, though. Aspen Mill’s high-society weddings were a sight to behold, and she wasn’t at all interested in beholding it. Chances were, the couple had friends and family who’d flown in from all over the world, and she’d have bet money that from the moment Matt arrived, assuming he didn’t have Julie on his arm, people had started not so subtly introducing him to their single daughters.

Dara gritted her teeth. Matt deserved so much better than women who only gave him the time of day because they—and everyone else in the fucking town—knew he was loaded.

If you weren’t interested in him when he was broke, you don’t deserve him now.

The microwave beeped, and she pulled out the plate. A couple of Hot Pockets weren’t exactly gourmet cuisine, and they’d have tasted a hell of a lot better with a beer, but it was food and it was easy and who the fuck cared? It was better than cold, congealed wedding catering.