Page 12 of Touch Me

I could leave Billy there until Needledick turned up for his shift in the morning, but the poor cowboy had already been stood up once tonight, and I couldn’t do that to him, too.

I didn’t know what it felt like to be stood up, only because I’d never put myself in that situation, but I knew exactly how hurtful it was to be overlooked. To be dismissed. To have the man I desired flit his attention right past me as if I was nothing more than a breath of air.

It hurt. An invisible hurt, never on display or spoken of.

And I, Plain Jane, never made a scene.

I returned to the bar. Cowboy was exactly where I’d left him. His breathing, however, was a little bit louder.

I shook his shoulder, feeling the thick, corded muscle beneath his shirt. “Mr. Johnson? Billy?”

Billy groaned but carried on sleeping.

I sidled into the booth seat beside him, and he still didn’t move. He smelled manly, with subtle tones of the cologne I noticed earlier and, fortunately, only a hint of beer. Strangely, he smelled of leather, too.

It reminded me of back home. It reminded me of Joel Patterson. The first boy I thought I’d lost my virginity to. I cast the ill-timed thought aside and tapped Billy on the cheek.

“Mr. Johnson. Wake up.”

His eyes flickered, and he rolled his head toward me, blinking.

“Billy, I need to take you to your room.”

He sat up. “Hey, hello there. How’re you doing?” Billy had a slow drawl to his words, like he had all the time in the world. I hadn’t noticed that earlier in the night.

“I’m fine. But you’re not. Come on, let’s get you to your feet.” I climbed out of the booth, and as I held my hand toward him, I hoped he could get himself upright.

He slid over the bench seat and stood much more easily than I’d thought he would. Without any other choice, I wrapped my arm around his waist and guided him toward the lobby. Billy draped his heavy arm over my shoulder, and as I felt the muscles in his torso flex and bulge with each movement, we fell into step together.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I propped him in the elevator to swipe my security card and press his floor button.

“I couldn’t leave you in the bar all night.”

“No.” He sighed a heavy sigh. “I guess that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

The door dinged open on the fourth floor, and I guided Billy to his room. I swiped him in and marched him to the bed, and he flopped onto the covers face first.

Giggling, I rolled him over. “Are you okay?”

“You’re so sweet.” He pouted.

I wrinkled my nose. Nobody ever called me that. But coming from a cowboy, it sounded perfect.

“Okay, Billy. I’m going now. Take care.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

Back at the lobby, I plucked my ‘Back in five minutes’ sign off the counter and fell into the leather office chair. The following three hours dragged on slowly, and my thoughts drifted to the lonely cowboy. Billy seemed sad, genuinely embroiled in deep-seated melancholy.

I felt for him because I knew that feeling very well.

My thoughts bottomed out at Alexander, the second man to break my heart. I had loved him. Loved him as much as any naive country girl could.

We were going to get married and have three children, two boys and a girl. We’d planned to buy a house with swings in the back yard and a vegetable patch where I’d grow snow peas and broccoli.

I was going to manage our son’s soccer team and be famous for my pear crumble teacake that I’d one day invent. I’d learn how to sew, too, and I’d make our daughter intricate dresses that all the little girls in town would drool over with jealousy.