Diana Palmer - Date with a Cowboy

“Apparently. It’s going to be a night to remember.” He hesitated. “Your adopted family’s invited, too.”

“Mr. Cameron?” she asked warily.

“Yes, and the hit man, too.”

“Tony is not a hit man,” she said, laughing when she realized that it was her own description of him that was making the rounds in town. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“He does sort of remind me of a hit man,” he replied dryly. “He’s big and slow-looking, though. He can’t be that good a bodyguard.”

Sara had doubts about how slow-moving Tony was. She had the distinct impression that he was quick as lightning and sly like a fox, hiding his light under a barrel. But she didn’t say so.

“Saturday at eleven,” he repeated.

“Yes.” She grinned at him as he waved and went out the door.

Sara pictured the band and Jared Cameron. She wondered if he’d ask her to dance. She wondered if he could dance. It was thrilling to consider.

Harley came for her exactly at eleven. She was wearing a full skirt with a simple white cotton peasant blouse and silver jewelry. She looked like a pixie.

He was in jeans and a clean plaid cotton shirt, Western cut, with polished black boots and a cowboy hat to match.

“You look nice, Sara,” he told her. “Are you feeling okay?”

She nodded. “The stitches catch a little when I walk too fast, but I feel fine.”

“Can you climb up by yourself?” he added when they reached his pickup truck. It had a running board, but it was higher than a car.

“Sure, I can,” she said. She held on to the inside handle over the door facing, put one foot on the running board and pulled herself up and into the passenger seat. It hurt a little, but she didn’t let that show. “Piece of cake,” she told him, smiling while she fastened her seat belt.

He grinned back. “Then we’re off!”

Cy Parks’s ranch was huge, even by Texas standards. The yard was full of tent pavilions complete with oilcloth-covered long tables and benches for people to sit on. The cowboys had barbecued a steer and their wives had prepared huge tubs of baked beans and coleslaw, and there were baking sheets full of homemade rolls and fresh butter. For dessert, there was everything from cakes to pies to soft-serve ice cream. Cy had really pulled out the stops. Across the fences, his Santa Gertrudis cattle grazed peacefully and stared at the crowds of people who’d come to enjoy the food.

All the powerful people in the county had shown up for Parks’s legendary barbecue. Even the children were invited. It resembled, more than anything, a family reunion.

“Is that the Coltrains’ little boy, Joshua?” Sara exclaimed, indicating a blond-headed little boy in jeans and cotton shirt and boots running from another small boy with dark hair and eyes.

“Yes, and that’s J.D. and Fay Langley’s little boy, Jon, chasing him.”

“They’ve grown so fast!” she exclaimed.

“They have,” he added, smiling at their antics. “Children must be a lot of fun. Their parents seem to dote on them.”

“I imagine they do.”

She was staring after the little boys when she spotted a familiar face. Jared Cameron was standing by one of the long tables talking to Cy Parks. With him were Tony the Dancer … and the female attorney, Max, standing with Jared’s arm around her.

Sara felt as if she’d just walked into a nightmare.

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