Page 18 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

“You’re forgetting that this is Rodeo Week. Every truck in the whole county will be in town and working for the sheriff.”

“I guess I have been away for a while,” she said. Despite the fact that Faith grew up in Bear Creek, she couldn’t think of a single person to call and ask for a ride.

“Tell you what,” said Kurt. “I’ll take you back to town. You can have someone come and get your car in the morning. It’ll be safe enough out here tonight.”

“You were knocked unconscious this afternoon. You can’t drive.”

“Then I guess you have no choice but to stay here until Erin gets home.”

She’d only been at Kurt’s house for a little more than thirty minutes—and twice they’d argued. “Really, I shouldn’t…”

“Do you have another choice?” he asked.

“No,” she said, while fastening the convertible top into place. “I guess I don’t.”

“We should eat. There’s the food Milly sent. Or, I have some leftover barbeque from Dwight’s in the fridge. I can heat that up for dinner.”

“Barbeque from Dwight’s,” said Faith, unable to keep the wistful tone from her voice. “I haven’t had barbeque that good in years.”

“Come on.” He held the door open. “Make yourself comfortable in the den. I want to watch the rest of the bull riding event. We’ll be casual with dinner. I’ll be right back.”

“You were hurt earlier,” said Faith. “You shouldn’t be waiting on me. I can help.”

“I’m sure you can help, but I don’t want to be treated like an invalid.”

“Sure,” said Faith. Walking to the den, she was once more drawn by the wall of photos. She took a minute and studied each one in turn. It didn’t take long for Faith to find the picture. The one that had been taken on that perfect summer’s day.

“Sometimes,” said Kurt. He stood behind Faith, holding a tray that was filled with barbeque sandwiches and slices of watermelon on plates, along with glasses of sweet tea. “It seems like that day happened a million years ago. Other days, I swear it seems like last week.”

Wasn’t that true? She took the tray and set it on a coffee table. She picked up a plate and glass of tea. “Here you go,” she said.

“Thank you much,” said Kurt.

He walked back to a recliner and sat. She noted the limp that accompanied each step. She wanted to ask about his level of pain. Yet, Kurt wasn’t her patient and her visit wasn’t a house call. Picking up her own plate, she moved to the sofa and sat. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes. The barbeque was savory, with just enough spice. There was a smoky after-taste and for a moment. “I forgot how good the food was at Dwight’s.”

“I’ve been all around the world,” said Kurt. “And you can’t get barbeque this good anywhere else.”

She’d been away from Bear Creek for almost two decades. The small town still held much of its charm—although when she was a kid, she didn’t think of her hometown as appealing. For her, it had felt claustrophobic.

“It seems like we’ve both traveled a lot,” said Faith. “What’s your favorite place?”

“Aside from here?”

She took another bite and spoke around her food. “You can’t pick Bear Creek.”

Lifting the remote, he turned on a large TV that was affixed to the wall. After finding the Western Sports Network, he muted the volume. They ate in silence while another rider took a turn in the arena. He didn’t stay on the bull for more than 2 seconds before being thrown. Kurt sipped his tea and then answered her previous question, “My favorite place is Singapore.”

Faith sat back. “I’m shocked. Singapore, really? Why?”

“Have you ever been?”

Sure, she’d vacationed in Europe once or twice. But her job kept her busy—and stateside. Faith shook her head. “Never.”

“It’s a completely different world from here. The city is immense. The buildings go straight up to heaven. The traditional culture is rich, but it’s an international city so folks are from everywhere.”

“How’d you end up in Singapore?”

“I was the Grand Marshall of their rodeo one year.”