Page 76 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series
She broke the kiss, her whole body aching at the loss, and stared at his face.
She had to tell him. She had to tell him how she felt. Now. For fuck’s sake, it was obvious there was something between them.
A gust of wind blasted at her back, pushing her into his body and blowing his hat clean off his head.
“Bloody hell,” Dylan muttered.
He spun out of their embrace, running after it as it tumbled along the road. Monet couldn’t help but laugh. He looked so cute, so determined, his concentration fixed on his tumbling hat…
Right up until he rammed shoulder-first into one of New York’s finest.
Monet’s mouth fell open.
Her breath caught in her throat. And then burst from her in a ragged laugh as, without so much as a second’s delay, Dylan stopped the police officer from staggering backward with one hand and snatched his hat from the ground with the other, returning it to his head in a graceful arc of his arm.
Pulling herself together, Monet crossed to where they stood facing each other, arriving just in time to hear Dylan say, “not that far from Cobar. Takes about an hour to get there.”
She slowed to a halt beside Dylan, sliding her fingers through his. For moral support, of course. To show the cop he was friendly to the natives, even if he did speak with an Australian accent.
Yeah, that’s why. You’re all about global politics, aren’t you, Monnie?
“Knew a girl from Cobar,” the cop said, a small smile dancing under a rather impressive moustache. “I haven’t seen her in years. We kept promising to keep in contact but…” He stopped, giving Monet a quick look before throwing a nod Dylan’s way. “This here Aussie cowboy yours?”
“Stockman.” Monet grinned. “And yes’m.”
“Have you taken him to the Statue of Liberty yet?”
“Yesterday.”
“Ellis Island?”
“Right after Lady Liberty, sir.”
“Eaten at Carmine’s yet?”
“Day before that.”
“Guggenheim?”
“Okay, I’ll answer this one,” Dylan cut in, his grin as wide as the cop’s. “Monday. My second day here.” He disengaged his hand from Monet’s and smoothed it around her hip, tugging her close to his body. “Did you know this very talented woman has artwork on display there?”
The officer let out a long whistle, giving Monet another nod. “That’s mighty impressive. What’s it called?”
Monet felt her cheeks fill with warmth. She’d never been one to blush until Dylan came along, now she seemed to be doing it all the time. Even at a simple compliment like “talented woman”.
Of course you’re blushing. You’re in love, stupid. When the man you love says something wonderful about you, you blush with happiness.
“Introspective Emptiness.” Dylan supplied the title of her sculpture on permanent exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum. “Go check it out.”
The cop’s moustache danced some more with his smile. “Think I will.” He touched the brim of his cap. “If you ever meet a Jilly Anne in Cobar, give her my regards. Robert Williamson.” A wistful expression flickered over his face. “She’ll remember me.”
Dylan smiled. “I’m headed to Cobar once I’m back home. I’ll look her up and tell her you said g’day.”
“The last I heard she’d bought a salon there.” The officer touched his cap again. “Thanks. Hope you enjoy the rest of your time in New York.”
Dylan reached up and touched the brim of his own hat. “Cheers. If you’re ever in Australia, look up Farpoint Creek Cattle Station and give me a call.”
The cop guffawed. “Will you throw a shrimp on the bar-bee?”
