Read Into the Arms of a Cowboy for Free Online Page B

the perfect image appear out of the tray of developer in her darkroom.
    Her darkroom. Cassie bit her lip as the sharp pain of loss jolted through her. She’d worked so hard to convert the bedroom in her apartment. Now she would probably never see it again. Despite her eternally messy living area, the chaos of her kitchen, and the closets stuffed with cute little knickknacks, she kept her darkroom immaculate. Carefully labeled bottles of developer, stop bath, and fixer lined the shelves she’d built herself. Her enlarger sat on a garage-sale table, her printing trays in a long ceramic sink.
    How many happy hours had she spent in that room? Too many to count. And now. . . . Well, maybe the guards would let her set up a darkroom in her cell. Teach a photography class for the other inmates. Learn to take mug shots.
    If only she hadn’t run away. Though of course she hadn’t meant to kill Andrew, only to defend herself. And she’d even tried CPR, struggling to remember how many breaths and chest compressions per minute. She’d held her mirror to his mouth. Nothing. That’s when fear got the better of her. She’d taken off in her car, driving aimlessly for an hour or two before she ended up at the diner.
    Now she couldn’t go back. Her photography career was as good as over. From now on she would be on the run, always afraid, constantly looking over her shoulder--and what kind of life was that? But Cassie wasn’t ready to turn herself in. Not yet. She needed time to think. Time to make sense of what had happened.
    Cheers exploded around her, and Cassie yanked her mind back to the rodeo. The law would catch up with her eventually, or maybe she’d get tired of running. When the moment came, she would hope for a decent public defender and a little luck at her trial. After all, the truth was on her side, if not the evidence. But whatever happened, she refused to dwell on the negative.
    She wi nced as a bronc rider flew through the air and hit the dirt, hard. He sprang up and brushed himself off, and Cassie smiled. Time to count her blessings.
    One, it was a bright, sunny, beautiful morning.
    Two, she was surrounded by people enjoying themselves.
    Three--and this was the frosting and sprinkles on the cupcake of her day--she had a lunch date with a cowboy. A cowboy who made her heart beat a little faster.
    What more could a girl want?
     
    “Barbecue chicken okay? Your choice of beer or Coke,” Jess said, as he plunked the paper plate in front of Cassie on the wooden picnic table. Probably not what she was used to, but it was the best he could manage. “I know it’s not fancy. . . .”
    She grinned and brushed a lock of wind-tousled hair from her face. “Coke, please, and it all smells wonderful. I think I could eat a whole darn coop full of chickens right now.”
    As she set to work on the barbecue and coleslaw, Jess stole occasional glances across the table. Cassie ate neatly--well, as neatly as possible, considering the sauce-drenched drumsticks--but without pretension. In Aunt Patty’s skirt and blouse, she no longer looked like the poor little rich girl of the night before. The sun had brushed her pale cheeks with a hint of rosy color, which brought out her freckles. Her mouth, bare of lipstick and slightly chapped, practically begged to be kissed. She looked a lot like the girl next door.
    If the girl next door were also sexy as hell.
    Jess shook his head, puzzled, and bit into a chicken wing. Time to rethink his first impression. Cassie seemed just about as down to earth as anyone he’d ever met. No fancy airs. No snide comments. No turned-up nose at the simple clothes and food he’d offered her. She seemed as much at home in well-worn espadrilles as in high heels. More at home, since she wasn’t limping today.
    So who was Cassie, anyway? A mystery, and a damn intriguing one.
    She ate with more enthusiasm than efficiency, and Jess finished first. A minute later, Cassie pushed her plate away, wiped her fingers on