Free The Mobster And The Cowboy (A Cowboy Romance) by Mae Martini Page B

back at her.
     
    She walked with him when he walked his bike to the side of his house.
    “What was with that bar?” she asked.
    “It’s haunted.”
    “Hahaha , that’s an understatement,” she said. They both laughed, then he elaborated a little more.
    “It’s known to be built on an old Indian campground.”
    “Oh. Why did I also see Confederate soldiers?”
    “No one knows. Why do some people see them and some don’t? There is speculation that the place is a sort of purgatory or even a doorway to hell.”
    Melanie got goose bumps at the last part of his explanation.
    “I wonder why I saw them. As my mom always pointed out, I’m afraid of my own shadow.” She giggled. “And ghosts would know that and leave me alone.”
    “Did you ever have any other encounters?”
    She thought about it a moment. “One time, I must have been about eight or nine, I shared a room with my sister at the time. It was the middle of the night and the whole house was asleep. I was awake, just brushing my hair, at the foot of the bed and I heard someone say ‘Melanie, it’s time to come into your mother’s room’. I said ‘Daddy, is that you,’ and no one answered. I threw the brush down and flew under the covers, shaking. I peeked out and thought I saw an outline of a cowboy in the doorway.”
    “ That’s fucked up.”
    “Gee, thanks. It’s a good thing you’re a cowboy and not a psychologist,” she said and they both laughed.
    “So what happened?”
    “Nothing. I told my mother about it the next day and she thought I must have dreamt it.”
    “You don’t think you did , then?”
    “No. To this day, no. But retelling that story now, I can’t help but wonder if that was when I started liking cowboys.” She laughed and wiggled her eyes and Logan looked at her and grinned.
    They spoke no more on the subject , but Logan couldn’t help but wonder if she was gifted and didn’t know it. He read somewhere that sometimes one needed to be shown his or her abilities to understand them.
     
    Melanie followed him into his house through a side door. It was a modest one story house. Nothing fancy, but it was neat and clean. He turned a hall light on and walked to the kitchen. She followed.
    He pulled out a beer from the fridge. “What can I get you?”
    “What do you have?”
    He looked back in the fridge. I don’t have any wine right now, how bout a hard Mike’s?” he asked, while making a mental note to stock up on wine.
    “M ike is still hard, huh?” she asked as she snickered.
    He looked at her and laughed as he removed the bottle.
    “Yeah, I want to see you drink hard mike,” he said with a wide grin.
    She cracked up as she took the bottle he handed her.
    He too k her hand and walked her to what he called the billiard’s room. It was actually the living room. He had a living room and a family room. He didn’t need both, so he made one into a sort of game room, he explained to her.
    “Choose a cue ,” he said to her, pointing to a rack of sticks.
    The balls on the table were already in the rack with the eight ball in the middle. “Eight ball?” he asked as he rearranged a solid and stripe ball in the rack.
    “Sure.”
    “Care to make it interesting?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
    “A betting man, huh?”
    He nodded his head and lifted the corners of his mouth up.
    “Ok ay…. How about a dollar a ball?” she asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Two?”
    “ Uh-uh.”
    “Logan, I’m not really a gambler. I’m not doing five.”
    “No money , baby.”
    “Oh. Then what?”
    Here goes, hopefully she won’t get offended. What’s the worst she could say, no? He thought to himself.
    “Every ball I sink, you take of f an article of clothing, and every ball you sink, I take off an article of clothing.”
    “Strip Pool, huh? I’ve never played before.” She paused. He worried.
    “ Okay, but, shouldn’t there be a reward for whoever sinks the eight ball at the end?”
    “Oh , darlin’, and you never played