Page 74 of Recipe for Rivals
“Roping?”
“Don’t tell me you’re unfamiliar with it.” He tilted his head to the side. “You ever been to a rodeo?”
“Can’t say they have many of those in the East.”
Dusty grinned widely. “You’re in for a treat, little lady. I have a feeling Alice is going to like watching cowboys try to ride bulls.”
“Alice? Why?”
“It’s basically an acrobatic demonstration. Sometimes we get a local girl to trick ride the horse while she brings in the American flag. It’s pretty good fun.”
“Sounds like an adventure.”
“Just wait until this summer.” He walked closer, taking slow steps and stopping right in front of me. “We’re going to sweat buckets, get us some stale nachos, and have the time of our lives.”
How could he make that sound utterly divine?
“I’d like that,” I said, and found I meant it.
Dusty bent his neck, his thumb brushing my chin. His eyes lingered there, his finger swiping over the curve of my bottom lip before his hand dropped to his side. “I like it much better when you smile.”
My skin tingled where he’d touched, and a flush stemming from awareness creeped up my cheeks. I wanted him to do it again, which was terrifying. I couldn’t pursue a relationship. Not this soon out of a ten-year marriage.
No, that excuse no longer held. But my kids hadn’t changed, and I wasn’t going to bring another man into their life so soon on a romantic level. He was amazing, but committing to me wasn’t the same thing as committing to all three of us. Hanging out and teasing them was the easy part. It would take a long time for me to feel ready to take that leap. We could remain friends, but that was the extent of it. Anything else was too risky.
Only, the way he looked down at me now, the glitter in his gaze as it darted between my eyes and my lips, made molten lava pool in my belly. I remembered what it felt like to be wanted, back when Carter only had eyes for me.
It had been a few years since then. Now I was the Sahara Desert. Dusty was either a cold glass of water or a mirage. Probably the former, but it was too soon to know.
“I better get back inside,” I said, but my voice sounded raspy.
He nodded. “Can I see you later tonight?”
“I’m making spaghetti with the kids.”
Dusty’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like an excuse.”
“It’s not. Well—it is, but it’s not a lie. I’ve been promising them all week. Alice plans to make hers purple.”
“You sure? When I want to get out of something, I tell people I need to go home and feed my cat. She has a self-feeder though, and anyone who knows me understands it’s a gentle way to let someone down.”
My heart started racing. “I’m not trying to let you down. Wemake spaghetti occasionally, and Alice has been begging me all week. I would invite you, but we’re doing it at Gigi’s.”
“Say no more.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “I want proof of that purple pasta later or I’m going to assume this is a gentle let down.”
“Have I been gentle yet?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No.” He gave my face a quick sweep. “You haven’t.”
Something about our conversation had shifted. The feeling between us in general was different. It was warm and comfortable, like fresh spring sunlight, and I wanted to stretch out in front of it and soak in the rays.
“I’ll let you go,” he said quietly, but he made no move to leave.
“Okay. Have fun playing with rope.”
Dusty rolled his eyes, but his smile stretched so wide, it only made the action look boyish.
I turned towards the door to go back to the kitchen and found a woman watching us through the window. Gracie Mae, if I was correct. She leaned against the wall inside, chatting with June, but her eyes were on us.