Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

“Am I invited?” he asked in return, his gaze fixed on the Manhattan skyline, growing closer as their two-hour tour came to an end.

“Absolutely.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“I have to be at the theater a few hours early, but I’ll leave a ticket at the box office.” She tried not to let her excitement rise at the thought of Reed in the audience, but her heartbeat deepened and her chest felt fuzzy. She’d dance for him tonight. It would be all for him.

“You can come backstage afterward,” she offered.

He was silent for a long moment.

“If you’d like,” she added, growing uncomfortable.

“Sure.” There was no inflection in his tone.

Had she made a misstep? It was impossible to tell, and the silence stretched between them.

“New York really is different from Colorado,” he observed.

“Taller buildings?” she asked, not really caring. Did he want to come backstage or not? Did he want to see her after the performance? Would he invite her back to the hotel? Or was he already searching for a way to let her down easily?

“Taller buildings, more noise, more people, more…I don’t know…life, I guess.”

She turned to study his profile. “Is it that bad?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you at ten years old.”

“I didn’t see it all at once,” she remembered. “I saw the airport, then Auntie Coco’s apartment. I knew there was a lot of traffic on the streets, but I never guessed how far the city sprawled.”

“Were you frightened by the crowds?”

She shook her head. “Ironically, I was lonely. But I liked the dancing, and I liked the sparkling lights.” She smiled to herself. “I particularly liked the sidewalks. I liked that you could sweep the dirt away, and they were clean and smooth.”

“I like dirt,” said Reed.

“Is that a joke?” She couldn’t tell.

“It’s life,” he said. “The dirt is what starts everything. You add seeds, and they grow into plants that get eaten by animals. And at the end of a day, if you’re dirty and sweaty, and you smell like the outdoors, you know you’ve done good. You’ve worked hard. Something that wasn’t there that morning now exists. It could be a stack of hay bales, a fence, a working motor, some clean tack. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just that you did it.”

“I hate getting dirty,” Katrina reaffirmed. Not that Reed would be surprised by that statement. It was the constant dust on her clothes and the grit in her hair that had made her most crazy growing up.

“You’re such a girl,” he teased.

“Good thing I’m pretty.”

His smile disappeared. “You’re more than just pretty.” He looked as though he was about to say something else. But then he stopped. He drew a breath. “Ever been to the Empire State Building?”

“I have.”

“You want to go again?”

“With you?” Her chest hitched.

“Tomorrow?”

She gathered her courage. “So, you’re staying a little longer?”

“I was invited to a party on Saturday night.”

At the restaurant last night, Elizabeth had extended an invitation to Reed for Liberty’s largest annual fundraising gala.

“You were noncommittal. I thought that was your polite way of turning her down.” Truth was, Katrina had also thought he was signaling to her his intention to leave before the weekend.

He chuckled. “Do you think she cares if I’m polite?”

“She liked you,” Katrina told him honestly. She’d rarely seen Elizabeth warm up to someone the way she’d warmed up to Reed. It was obvious enough that Katrina had felt a little jealous at the time. Maybe that’s why she’d pushed him so hard to sleep with her last night.

Oh, wow. That wasn’t particularly admirable.

Then she let herself off the hook. Sleeping with Reed had nothing to do with Elizabeth. Katrina simply wasn’t ready to let go of the intimacy they’d found together in the line shack.

He was a great guy and an amazing lover. And she couldn’t imagine herself with anybody else. Which meant, once this was over, lovemaking was over for her for a very, very long time.

“I liked her, too,” said Reed.

“So, you’re coming to the party?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind meeting a few more of the Liberty Ballet notables.”

“You’re going to need a tux. This is a pretty high-end affair.”

“No problem. I’ll go see Salvatore.”

“You’re going back to Brooklyn for a tux?”

“I like Salvatore. Besides, I own part of his company now. He’ll have to give me a good price.”

“Just out of curiosity.” Katrina turned and leaned her back against the rounded metal rail, asking a question that had nagged at her since last night. “How did you decide to buy into a tailor shop in Brooklyn?”

He shrugged. “Instinct more than anything. I was in Brooklyn yesterday, and Nico recommended Salvatore. We got to talking about his business. He needed some help, and it made sense to me to help him out. In the end, I looked him in the eyes. I liked him, and I liked his business.”

“Who’s Nico?”

“The guy who owns the bakery I’m buying into.”

Katrina got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying this all happened yesterday?”

“While you were rehearsing.”

She was dying to ask him how much he’d invested. She was terrified that Nico and this Salvatore character had seen Reed coming. “How do you know he didn’t rip you off?”

“I’m a good judge of character.”

“Maybe in Colorado. But this is New York City.”

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly.

The muscles in his neck went tight, and she braced herself.

But when he finally spoke, his tone was neutral. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How much-” She stopped herself. “Never mind. None of my business.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sorry.”

The wind whistled past them.

“I have a plan,” he said.

“Do tell.”

“The baker. The tailor. And the limo guy. They all have the same problem, great little businesses, solid work ethic, and short-term cash-flow issues.”

“Oh, Reed, no.” Not the limo business, too.

“They’re good guys, family businesses that have been around for generations. I make a few more of these small investments, and when they pay off, I reinvest the profits in the next person.”

“And what if there are no profits? What if you lose? Reed, this is a very big city. Con artists are everywhere.”

“In a small bake shop in Brooklyn with a broken-down delivery truck, just waiting for a guy like me to come along and bail him out?”

Okay, that did sound far-fetched for a sting operation. But it didn’t mean these guys weren’t opportunistic.

“I’m not going to lose, Katrina,” said Reed. “I’m willing to bet people are people just about anywhere. Some good, some bad, most just trying to get by.”

“I didn’t know they taught philosophy at Lyndon Valley High School.”

His jawline set, and his eyes turned to charcoal, and she knew she’d gone too far. Then, his voice went hard as steel “Well, I’d already guessed they taught snobbery at the Upper Cavendar Dramatic Arts Academy.”

Regret shot through her. “Reed, I didn’t-”

“We’re docking,” he pointed out, turning on his heel to head for the gangway.

Sitting in row G, center orchestra, in the opulent Emperor’s Theater, Reed’s anger had long since disappeared. Katrina’s ballet performance had blown him away, and he felt like the biggest jerk in the world for barking at the ethereal angel who’d held the audience enthralled throughout the evening. He wondered how quickly the well-heeled crowd would turn on him if they knew how he’d behaved.