Something in his expression changed. Before she could ask what was wrong, he pivoted and stepped into the stirrup. Swinging his leg over the saddle, he pointed the horse in the direction of the street and nudged it into a brisk trot.
“Goodbye,” she called after him, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Dammit, had she scared him away? It wouldn’t surprise her.
Miranda followed him as far as the street, watching him ride away as dusk quietly fell. She didn’t move for several minutes, despite the freezing temperature.
That, she realized, was how it felt to be thoroughly kissed. And by Will Dessaro, of all people. Who’d have guessed?
* * *
WILL MANAGED TO stall his panic attack until he reached the outskirts of town. Then all his coping techniques proved worthless. It was his worst attack in years. Since the “Dear John” email he’d received from his ex-fiancée while stationed at Fort Huachuca in Arizona.
Giving Rocket Dog her head, he let the mare carry him home. She didn’t seem bothered by his shaking, cold sweats and hyperventilating. When he could take no more, he bent forward over the saddle horn and waited for his heart to stop drilling a tunnel through his rib cage.
He’d kissed Miranda. Kissed her like a crazed man. He would have done it again if not for getting the hell out of there when he did.
What would she think if she saw him now, on the verge of passing out? Worse, what if the panic attack had struck while their lips were locked?
She wouldn’t have wanted a round two. She wouldn’t want him anywhere near her house, either, Mrs. Litey or no Mrs. Litey.
Eventually the attack receded. Though he didn’t feel like his old self, he regained enough control to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Taking stock of his surroundings, he fumbled for the reins.
Rocket Dog was dutifully retracing her steps along the route they’d taken into town through the mountains. Will changed direction, opting for a quicker route that would have them home in a third of the time. He needed coffee. Better yet, a shot of whiskey. Anything, as long as it hit his stomach with the fiery jolt he craved.
He’d kissed Miranda. His muddled brain had yet to fully process the shocking revelation. His body, however, recalled every moment in precise detail. The taste of her lips. The extraordinary sensation of her generous breasts pressed against his chest. Her tiny moan of pleasure when he’d backed her into the hitching post. Each memory reminded him of how many years it had been since he’d held a woman.
She was everything he’d imagined. More than he’d hoped for. When she had first touched her lips to his, he’d been convinced he could hold out by not moving a muscle. Then his resolve had snapped and he’d practically manhandled her.
Except she’d said she liked kissing him. Had clung to him as if she couldn’t get enough. It may have been a long time for Will, but he could tell when a response was genuine.
No more and never again, he told himself. This was his one and only slip. He wouldn’t screw up his life, not after all the progress he’d made. Even for Miranda.
Rocket Dog’s rhythmic clip-clopping on the hard-packed dirt road worked like a mantra and further calmed Will. By the time they passed through the Gold Nugget’s main gate, it was well after dark and he felt good enough to fool anyone he came in contact with. Except for Sam.
As luck would have it, his boss was waiting for him at the horse corrals, standing in a pool of light cast by the flood lamp mounted overhead.
“There was no envelope,” Will announced, and dismounted. Snowflakes were just starting to fall, melting the instant they landed.
“No? I swear Mayor Dempsey told me she had one.” The smirk Sam wore erased any doubts Will might have been entertaining about a ruse. “Run into anyone interesting?”
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