“So I’m asking you, McKay. You gonna do right by my sister?”
“You can count on it.”
Without another word Thomas walked off.
Cal broke the silence first. “Some night, huh?”
“I’ll be feelin’ it in the mornin’, that’s for damn sure.”
“Maybe it’s best if we head home. I’ll follow you.”
Carson pushed away from the car he’d been resting against.
“Is she worth it?” Cal asked. “You’ve known her for little over a week.”
“Yeah. But it feels like I’ve been waitin’ for her forever.”
Chapter Eleven
Carolyn
Carolyn’s red-rimmed eyes nearly kept her home from church.
At least her eyes weren’t swollen shut like the last time she’d spent the night crying, after her cat had died.
But she’d never cried over a guy.
That’s because you’ve never been in love before.
If this was love, who wanted it? At least her cat hadn’t catted around on her.
Maybe she should head back to Montana and enroll in the convent.
During the miserable drive home she’d relived every awful moment: seeing him with that woman, witnessing the disinterested and dismissive expression on his handsome face.
Was it typical lovesick behavior to scroll back through all the times they’d spent together in the past week, searching for signs she’d missed that indicated he intended to use her for sex and then move on to the next conquest? She’d come up blank. Or maybe she was too naïve to recognize the warning signs.
Beverly had caught up with her as she’d dashed back to her car, tears already streaming down her face, the scream of pain and outrage stuck in her throat.
Her friend’s look of pity made Carolyn want to crawl under the car. But with Beverly’s gentle urging, Carolyn had told her what’d happened.
“Carolyn. Sweetie. He’s got a bad reputation. He isn’t interested in dating; he’s interested in screwing as many women as he can. And I’m sorry it hurts, I wanna march over there and punch him in the nose, but that’s why they call men like him heartbreakers.”
“But I thought I was different. I was—”
“Special?” Beverly inserted. “I’m sure he probably told you that in such a way you believed it. He’s very good at acting sincere because he’s used that line on so many girls before and it always works for him.”
“So I’m just a fool?”
“We all are. Heartbreak is a rite of passage.”
Carolyn wiped her eyes. “Are you afraid Mike will break your heart?”
“Every day. But I love him every day anyway. Maybe Carson will come to his senses.”
Maybe Martians will land on top of Devil’s Tower.
She snapped out of the memory when she realized she’d started to drift to the center line of the road.
Much like she had last night.
The church service was packed. Several people her mother’s age smiled at her as she slid into the fourth-to-last pew. She lifted out the hymnal and flipped to the first hymn. She loved these songs. It connected her to the past, imagining a church full of people across the world singing these same hymns of praise a century or two ago.
The organ played the processional as the altar boys lit the candles. A figure paused at the edge of the pew before sliding in next to her.
Carolyn looked over…right into Carson McKay’s blue eyes.
Her mouth dropped open and she bobbled the hymnal.
Carson steadied the book and softly asked, “Can we share this?”
She nodded. Numbly. Dumbly. Her mind wasn’t on the music or anticipating the inspirational bits she could take from this sermon to sustain her throughout her week, but got stuck on the cowboy sitting next to her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Carson’s black hair looked damp. She caught a whiff of his aftershave. He’d donned a dark brown western-cut suit. Polished dress boots adorned his feet. And she knew the man was turning heads, even in church.
The music crescendoed, signaling the start of the hymn. Carson adjusted the hymnal and she noticed his bruised and scabbed knuckles.
Her head snapped up and she caught sight of his handsome face. Her insides knotted, seeing his swollen and cut lip, the gash by his eyebrow. Another slice on his cheek. He had a serious shiner around his right eye, and bruises on his jawline.
What had happened to him last night?
When she realized she was staring and not singing, she tried to focus on the hymn. But Carson once again distracted her, his voice a deep rumble as he sang quietly beside her.
The hymn ended and the liturgy was recited. He didn’t need to read along as he seemed to have it memorized. He had no problem knowing when to kneel. He knew the prayers. His motions were automatic, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
Why hadn’t she known that Carson had been raised Catholic?
She knew so many other things, hot and sweet and sexy things—please Lord forgive me for letting my mind wander to such carnal thoughts during church service, amen. But why hadn’t she asked about his core beliefs? When her religious beliefs were such a large part of who she was?
Because you gave up your virginity to him within a week of meeting him. He probably thinks you don’t have those core beliefs. Actions speak louder than words, remember?
Carson shifted to get to his billfold when the usher shoved the collection plate in front of him. She dropped a folded bill in the same time Carson did and their fingers brushed.