Mr. Accidental Cowboy_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Dylan

by Gina Robinson

I looked around for Lazer. He was occupied with a group of women fawning over him. I took Knox’s arm. “My king is busy for the moment. Come keep me company at my table while I try to find another match for you. I can’t promise I’ll be able to sit long, but at least neither of us will be lonely.”

  It was impossible to read his eyes behind the mirrored sunglasses, but he smiled. “My pleasure.”

  *

  Dylan

  Ashley and Lazer had coached us and drilled into us how to make conversation on a date and spark intimacy. There are questions you can ask and discuss that make bonding easier and faster. Techniques you can use to cut to the chase. I’d watched Lazer operate enough years to see that the method worked. I was using those questions now to build a bond of friendship between us. With some women I’d dated, it still felt like work, but with Laura, it was like play.

  Neither of us admitted to knowing the other, although it was obvious she knew who I was and I knew her. The thought of being two strangers meeting added to the thrill and allowed me to get to know the Laura of now. And I wanted to know everything about her.

  I wasn’t much of a talker. I preferred to listen to her and watch the way her smile lit up as she shared. I could have watched her all day. She was beautiful when she got excited, and funny and witty. There was nothing about this grownup Laura I didn’t like. She was still the captivating Laura I remembered, but surer of herself, more independent. The more she talked, the deeper I fell for her. I was skating into dangerous territory, but I let myself go there.

  She hadn’t been on any match dates, nor had she been taught the intimacy questions, which was apparent by the way she warmed to me and looked at me like I was the most sensitive guy around. Those questions made me look like a dating superstar in her eyes. It was a refreshing image change from the nerdy version of me she must have had from when we were kids.

  Eventually, Laura noticed she was doing most of the talking. “I’ve been chattering away. Tell me something about yourself.”

  This was where it got tricky and I had to answer an intimacy question she hadn’t asked. I had a message I wanted to get across. This was as good an opportunity as I was likely to get, but even so, my heart hammered. “I grew up in a small ranching town on the other side of the mountains.”

  She tensed.

  I had to proceed carefully. “It was a nice place with a lot of good people and expectations that weren’t me. The town’s idea of success was being the star of the annual stampede and rodeo.”

  I couldn’t see her eyes, which made this heartfelt confession of who I was that much more difficult. But I’d blown one chance with her and wasn’t about to blow this one. If things were going to go forward between us, I had to open up and let her see inside me. Yeah, she could reject me, but that was a chance I had to take.

  I waved my hands over my torso. “Look at me. I’m way too large to be a cowboy. I was even larger then.” I laughed. “My uncle was a rodeo star. I wanted to be like him. Followed him everywhere. Idolized him, but there was no way I was physically ever going to be a rodeo star. I sure wanted to be one. I’m not the right size. I’m way too tall and big-boned. I don’t have the personality, either.”

  Growing up in the same town as I did, Laura would know that. But we were pretending not to know each other. I had to make the deception authentic.

  “I did, and do, like tech stuff and gaming. I have a good head for math. I buried myself in games and coding and became a couch potato kind of kid as a way of rebelling and protecting myself. People expect big guys to be athletic, especially in a small town where every guy is needed to field a team of any sort. I’m not particularly athletic and didn’t like team sports.

  “I put on weight as a means of opting out. The fatter I got, the less pressure people put on me—and, unfortunately, the more I was made fun of. If there was one thing I’d change about the way I was raised, I would have liked my parents to build up who I was more and ease off what the town expected from me. I would have liked them to express more clearly that it was okay to like school more than rodeo.”

  Laura sat still as she listened. She dabbed her nose with a napkin. I assumed that meant she was moved.

  “Sorry. I’ve said too much.” I cleared my throat, a nervous habit.

  “No.” She reached across the table and took my hand. “I was raised in a small town, too, and have my regrets. If I could change one thing about the way I was raised, I’d make it clear that I didn’t need to care so much what my peers thought. That high school is only one small, silly, insecure part of life. It’s less important to be popular then and more important to follow your heart and not care so much about what others think, even family. Particularly strong-willed, opinionated family members.”

  I hoped she was telling me what I thought she was. Her grandpa had been in a feud with mine since before I could remember. He’d never liked me just by virtue of my family. Something about a horse deal gone bad. Over the years, the details had been blurred and exaggerated so badly that I didn’t think anyone knew or remembered the full truth. All I knew was that my granddad was one of the biggest-hearted, most honest men I knew. I’d always been on his side, naturally.

  “You know what my biggest regret from my high school years is?” She focused on me, completely earnest. “Accepting this really sweet, funny, big guy’s invitation to prom and backing out later, cruelly, when a more socially acceptable offer came along.” Her voice became soft. “The folly of youth.”

  I swallowed hard. I wasn’t an emotionally vulnerable guy, but her admission touched me. I swallowed hard. Maybe I’d misjudged her.

  “Our class had so few girls that we were required to take our turn being the dance queen of the moment.” She laughed, but it was at herself, continuing the ruse.

  I knew damn well how our prom queens were chosen.

  “It was my bad luck that my turn came up for senior prom. Just when I was about to tell people where to go and do what I wanted for once. It’s not an excuse. It just is what it is. I went with the local rodeo star, a guy who’d graduated a few years before. A guy who wasn’t…” She looked away.

  I sat quietly, letting her process.

  She shuddered. “Prom night is my worst memory ever.”

  I squeezed her hand. It was one of mine, too.

  “Fortunately, prom was just weeks before graduation. I got out of that town as fast as I could. Graduated and left.” Her voice shook. “My parents moved away. My grandpa still lives there, but I seldom go back.”

  I looked her in the mask. It was impossible to look her in the eye. I put my heart in my voice. “We’ve only just met, but you know what I like about you?”

  She tilted her head.

  “Your strength. Your honesty.” Which was almost a joke, because we were both lying about not knowing each other.

  She laughed and softly shook her head. “Am I honest? Are we being honest?”

  Yeah, she got the irony. I smiled. “Honest where it counts. I’m not finished with my list of what I like about you already. I admire your willingness to put your heart out there and be vulnerable. The way you admit your mistakes and weaknesses.”

  Her smile wobbled. “I was just going to say the same about you, cowboy.”

  A waiter came by and cleared our dessert plates. The band took the stage and began to play.

  “Do you dance, Odette?”

  “I do.” Her smile deepened. “Is that an invitation?”

  I laughed, knowing how much she loved dancing and how good she was at it. “It is if that’s a yes.”

  She laughed too. “I love dancing, and I’d love to dance with you.” She slid her chair back and looked at the dancers filling the dance floor. She turned to me. “That’s a bachata. It’s a dangerous and tricky dance.”

  “Are you warning me? Don’t think I can handle it?” I lifted an eyebrow.

  “It’s not like your typical country line dance.”

  “Are you stereotyping cowboys?” I pushed
my chair back. “Because I’ll have you know, space cowboys can dance. Zero gravity makes us light on our feet. And I’ve taken a few lessons.”

  “With a challenge like that, how can I refuse?”

  I held my hand out to her.

  As she took it, she said, “Bring it on, cowboy. Show me what you got.”

  *

  Ashley

  I was up and down at dinner, leaving Knox to keep the waiters from clearing my plate while I put out fires and stole bites in between. Lazer and Lottie were as busy as I was. At last, just as dessert was being served, I managed to rejoin Knox at our table. He’d been very sweet and gotten the waiter to put a plate cover over my meal.

  He looked apologetic as I sat down. “I tried to get them to put a Sterno under it, but they wouldn’t have it.”

  “Nice of you to try.” It felt good to be off my feet and just relax with an old friend for a few minutes over dinner. I hoped the calm lasted long enough for me to enjoy the remains of my meal. I slipped my Queen of Hearts slippers off and sighed happily.

  Knox slipped off the glove he was wearing on his left hand to hide his missing fingers. He held his hand up and stretched it. It was scarred from the explosion that cost him the fingers. It tightened up and needed to be stretched with specific exercises his physical therapist had given him. After being a military wife, I knew more than I wanted to about war injuries, physical therapy, and healing. Knox was doing a competent job of messaging his left hand with his right, but it was really a job best done with two hands.

  “Here. Let me.” I held my hand out for his and scooted my chair around closer to him to make the job easier.

  When Ruck was alive, I’d had the reputation for being one of the best massagers around. I had strong fingers and hands. I’d messaged Knox’s wounds before, but not his hand. This was just a friendly gesture.

  He stretched his stump. “I still feel phantom pain in my phantom fingers.”

  I tried not to wince. He didn’t want my sympathy. That would only wound his pride. But a tender touch was something else.

  He slipped his hand into mine and relaxed as I stroked his palm and messaged his hand with strong upward strokes.

  “You think this scared my match off?” He nodded to his arm.

  “Your hand?” I shook my head. “She couldn’t have seen it beneath your glove. Her loss that she didn’t get close enough to you to realize what’s beneath the glove.”

  “You make this seem like a good thing.” He tried not to wince as I worked a knot out.

  “It’s a unique thing,” I said. “It makes you human and heroic. To the right woman, it will be a beautiful symbol of courage and heroism. It makes you look badass and dangerous. Women love that.” I realized too late how it looked with his hand in mine.

  His answering smile was a little too intimate if you didn’t know our history. This was just the way it had always been between Knox and me—a little flirty, but only in a friendly way. He understood the limits. Anyway, I didn’t flinch, and neither did he.

  “You still have the touch.” He tipped his head back and groaned with delight, letting me massage his hand in silence. Finally, he clasped his right hand over mine and patted my fingers, squeezing them for good measure. “I’m keeping you from eating.”

  “So you are.” I relinquished his hand and dove into my meal.

  “You keep looking back at a particular spot in the room,” Knox said. He’d always been observant. “Keeping an eye on a special client?”

  “You caught me. I am.” I pushed my plate away. “I’ll have to learn to be stealthier.”

  “So you play favorites?”

  “This one’s a personal friend, a longtime friend of Lazer’s, and one of our original clients. It’s a matter of pride to get him matched.” I smiled, satisfied. From what I could tell, Dylan and Laura were getting along well. “I think I might finally have succeeded. I hope so, anyway.”

  Knox lifted his wine glass. “To your success and many happy matches.”

  I clinked my glass to his. “To love and destiny.”

  Yes, I was pleased with the spark I saw blossoming between Laura and Dylan. I knew I hadn’t been wrong. This was the perfect way to get them together. My heart swelled with love for Lazer and the lengths he went to in order to make his friends happy. Even if Dylan and Laura were the only couple to get a match out of this, the whole event would have been worth it. But from what I was seeing, I was going to have many, many happily matched couples. Our lovelock statue in the lobby was going to bend under the weight of all the locks that would soon be added to it.

  The waiter cleared my plate and brought me coffee and dessert. Knox had already had his dessert. We chatted pleasantly while I finished eating the luscious chocolate concoction, totally uninterrupted. It may have been my imagination, but I thought Knox was scaring off anyone who dared approach me, and Lottie must have been handling any forest fires that popped up.

  When I had finished every last bite, the band began playing.

  Knox extended his hand to me. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, my queen?”

  I laughed and took his hand. I loved to dance, and so did Knox. Before Ruck died, Knox had always been my dancing partner of choice when Ruck wasn’t available. I knew his moves and he mine. Better yet, the two of us knew how to move together. Though I preferred to dance with my late husband because of the intimacy and romance of dancing, I had to admit that Knox was the better dancer. When you dance with someone who knows what they’re doing, dancing is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

  “I’d be delighted.” I took the hand he offered and let him help me out of my chair and lead me onto the dance floor. “Do you remember the time we won the officers’ dance competition?”

  He grinned. “Do I remember? We danced a bachata then, too. I’m a little rusty, but I think I can still manage.”

  “Where you lead, I’ll follow. I think I can still remember some of our more dramatic moves. Your nurse is going to regret throwing you over for the most interesting man in the world.”

  He took my waist in his hands. “Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

  10

  Laura

  Life is full of surprises. That’s a universal truth. Even knowing that, the fact that Dylan could dance, and dance beautifully and smoothly, came as a huge surprise. Like most Latin dances, the bachata was all about sensuality and teasing. Hips, hips, beautifully grinding into each other, male to female, so close it was practically like making love. Like petting in the open, only gracefully so. Hands all over each other. His on my back, touching, guiding.

  The dance was all about flowing like water, rippling. Bending. Elastic. Fluid. My leg between his. His leg between mine, so close to my crotch that it was tantalizing.

  My breath caught. My toes tingled. It had been too long since I’d felt anything close to this kind of chemistry with a guy. It was thrilling and terrifying in its intensity at the same time. Dylan’s hands were warm as he took mine, the pressure he gave to guide me firm and confident.

  The dance could be fast and wickedly hot, or slow and sensual. It hadn’t been lost on me that every song the band played this evening was a love song, with a preponderance of them made for slow dancing. Of course they were. How much easier to feel the chemistry, or lack of it, in a potential mate’s arms. And why not? I wouldn’t expect anything less.

  Any good matchmaker should foster an atmosphere ripe for falling in love. Ashley was smart and skilled. She was leading anyone who felt the passion right up to the brink of breaking her cardinal rule—no sex until exclusivity.

  Every tiny detail was chosen to aid in the art of romance. The atmosphere was so skillfully set that any common dunce would have had to try to fail. So much so that I hoped the fantasy wouldn’t get in the way of reality. At some point, the ball would end and we’d all be real people again, with real faces, in the real world, facing real challenges. But behind the mask and my veiled eyes, I could let go of my inhibiti
ons and reservations and let my heart fly. If it fell, it would be worth the price. I was free to study Dylan without recrimination, to look and drink my fill of his handsome features and the desire that built in his eyes with every dance and every move.

  The music, the flowers, the lighting, the food—aphrodisiacs all, every last bite from appetizer to dessert. The menu had practically screamed, I’m an oyster. Eat me and fall in love. Or at the very least lust.

  I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover Ashley was piping pheromones into the room. Even packed with eager, anxious, exercising people gently glowing, the room smelled deliciously like love—perfume, cologne, and subtle undertones of scents that perfumeries dream of capturing.

  For a big man, Dylan was light on his feet, and best of all, as I quickly discovered, he knew how to lead. When a man leads with skill, dancing is easy. When the man’s a dud, it’s torture. And there were so many ways to be a dud—too arrogant, too cocky and show-offish, too heavy-footed, and, worst of all, doesn’t know how to dance or lead, but thinks he does. That’s dangerous for his partner.

  The bachata can be danced separated or totally tangled in one another. The best, of course, if you’re dancing with someone you like, is to be totally intertwined with him. But to start, it’s easier to dance side by side or facing each other to get a feel for your partner’s style and ability.

  Dylan had shed his duster, hung it on the back of his chair at the table, led me to the center of the dance floor, and staked out a prime spot. As the music began, we danced facing each other, doing the basic steps but not touching. It was a contest between us. Basic step, basic step. Time to up the ante.

  He was good with his hips. I was better. I also had the advantage—I could see his eyes. I grinned as I remembered my male dance instructor’s running commentary: “Ladies, hit him with the hips. Hips, hips, hips, hips.”

  Have hips. Will use them to my advantage.

  I held eye contact with Dylan. Or tried. He couldn’t see my eyes. Through the tulle and around the sequin and pearl swirls, I could see him watching my hips. I watched with delight as his breathing became shallower and more rapid and his eyes became wide and dark. I was absolutely certain my eyes were the same as I watched him.