The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) by Michael Richan Page B

funny
and interesting? Unlike other dates, he’d not talked incessantly about himself
— was that it? How about the fact that he’d mentioned arousal? Not something
she would have expected of a nice Mormon boy.
    All of that had appealed to Deem, and she found herself
liking Warren, ready to chalk up the first date as a success provided they made
it out of the café without an incident that ruined things. Then, as she studied
Warren stretched back in his chair, it came to her, the reason why she thought
something was different: no garment line.
    He couldn’t have been back from his mission for more than a
year, she thought. And
he’s not wearing garments under that t-shirt — I can tell. There’s no ring
around his neck, the surefire giveaway that you’re dealing with a male Mormon.
Did he take them off for this date? Or does he not wear them anymore? If so,
that would mean a significant break with the church. She tucked the
discovery into her brain, knowing that if she continued to see him, it’d come
up down the road.
    She settled the bill and took out an uneaten half-sandwich.
Warren tried to get ahead of her to open the restaurant door for her, but there
were a lot of people waiting in line and Deem made sure she got to the door
first, opening it for him instead. She could see he was a little disappointed
that he hadn’t made it in time. They walked down the sidewalk to the parking
lot.
    “Well, I think that went pretty well, don’t you?” Warren
asked.
    “You didn’t freak out when I held the door open for you, so
yes,” she replied.
    “Actually, it was nice,” Warren replied. “You’re quite the
gentleman.”
    “How gracious you are, my lady.”
    Deem saw Warren come to a stop, and she thought, Uh oh, I
just crossed the line. Threatened his manhood by calling him a lady. Here we
go.
    He turned to her, and she looked at him. He clearly wasn’t
upset. In fact, he looked the opposite. “Here’s my car. I really did have a
nice time, Deem,” he said. “It was great to catch up with you.”
    Deem was relived. “Me too, Warren. So, tomorrow morning? 9?”
    “Can’t wait,” he said, and opened his car door.
    She turned and walked to her truck. From the look on his
face, she thought, he really meant it. And I need to stop assuming he’ll
behave like most guys around here. He’s already proven he doesn’t.

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    When Deem pulled her truck into the turnout the next morning,
Warren was waiting there for her, an extra horse in tow. She stopped the truck
away from the animals and got out.
    “You drive a truck,” Warren stated as she approached him.
    “Yeah, it was my father’s before he passed,” she replied.
    Warren was staring at her, smiling, holding the reins of both
horses.
    “What?” she asked.
    “It just keeps getting better,” he replied, extending the
reins of one of the horses to her.
    “What, because I drive a truck?”
    “Any woman who drives a truck is alright by me,” he said.
    “Oh, I see,” she replied. “Am I earning merit badges in your
mind?”
    He blushed a little. “You know how to ride?”
    Deem slipped two fingers under the saddle girth on the side
of the horse, checking the tightness. Then she placed the reins in her left
hand, grasped the mane and the back rim of the saddle, slipped her left foot
into the stirrup and swung her right leg up and over the horse.
    She looked down at Warren. “Another merit badge?”
    Warren’s smile turned into an outright grin. He walked to his
horse and mounted it, then he led them down a trail toward the canyon. Deem
loved the smell of damp sagebrush all around them, the result of overnight dew.
It was a smell she associated with being outdoors in the early morning, and it
always appealed to her. She moved her horse up next to Warren.
    “You know, it’s not like you’re not keeping track of me,
too,” Warren said. “I know how this works. We’re each ticking off checkmarks
next to a list of things we