Back Falling for the Cowgirl
Chapters (40)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Jody Hedlund
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Epigraph
  7. Chapter1
  8. Chapter2
  9. Chapter3
  10. Chapter4
  11. Chapter5
  12. Chapter6
  13. Chapter7
  14. Chapter8
  15. Chapter9
  16. Chapter10
  17. Chapter11
  18. Chapter12
  19. Chapter13
  20. Chapter14
  21. Chapter15
  22. Chapter16
  23. Chapter17
  24. Chapter18
  25. Chapter19
  26. Chapter20
  27. Chapter21
  28. Chapter22
  29. Chapter23
  30. Chapter24
  31. Chapter25
  32. Chapter26
  33. Chapter27
  34. Chapter28
  35. Chapter29
  36. Chapter30
  37. Chapter31
  38. About the Author
  39. Back Ads
  40. Back Cover

Engaged? What in the blazes had he said to this woman last night? No doubt he’d gone and made her promises about marriage and love and a future together. And no doubt she’d gone and believed every blasted word he’d uttered.

Shucks.

Dylan shoved off the covers and stood. In the same motion, he swiped up his clothes and began to don them, heedless of the fact that the woman on the bed behind him was watching him.

“Where you going?” Her voice contained a note of worry.

He hopped into one pant leg, then the other, trying to get the wheels inside his brain rolling, even if sluggishly. That slow motion was all it took for shame to well up and nearly strangle him. He’d done it again. After he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, he’d somehow ended up with another woman. “I’ve got to get to work this mornin’, darlin’.”

“It’s Sunday, the Lord’s Day.”

As he slid a suspender over his shoulder, he paused. The Lord’s Day? He released a scoffing breath. The Lord wouldn’t want anything to do with the sorry likes of him. Not after the complete mess he’d made of his life.

“Stay with me for a little while, Dylan.” The woman’s beckon was low and sultry.

He slapped his other suspender up. She knew his name, but he didn’t remember hers. In fact, he didn’t remember much of anything about the previous evening, and now all he wanted to do was hightail it out of wherever he was and try to forget about the night and this woman.

That made him the worst kind of lowlife scum. He wouldn’t deny it. And he wouldn’t deny how much he loathed himself either.

“Wish Chicago criminals took Sundays off.” He snatched up his gun belt. “But seems they have a hankerin’ for getting into trouble every day of the week. Course now, somebody’s got to go out—even on the Lord’s Day—and make sure pretty ladies like yourself are kept safe.”

“That’s true.”

At the resignation in her tone, he released a notch of tension in his back. He hated when the parting with a woman got ugly. It was one of the reasons why he’d tried to do better since Bliss left last autumn and went back to Colorado with the intention of marrying Ivy.