The only people he didn’t like were the Abernathys and Taylors of Bronco Heights. The kind of people who believed that because they’d had their money longer, and had a so-called legacy, this made them better than anyone else. So far, they hadn’t even accepted the Daltons into The Association.
Well, he had news for them. People weren’t bred for good stock like horses and dogs. People were people, whether they had money or nothing at all. He’d been on both sides now. Growing up middle-class meant that he still didn’t relate to someone who would take a helicopter to go grab lunch in Missoula.
Boone handed the horse over to one of the ranch hands, cleaned up and pulled his phone out to see about that call from earlier. He didn’t recognize the number. They’d probably dialed wrong, but he called back anyway.
“BH Couture, this is Sofia Sanchez. How can I help you?”
BH Cou-what? “Well, Sofia, this is Boone Dalton. I have a missed call from y’all, but I think you must have dialed wrong. Just thought I’d let you know. You might want to take another look at that number.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Dalton! It isn’t a mistake.”
“Do I know you?” He’d never even stepped foot inside a couture, whatever that was.
She laughed. “You won the grand prize! A makeover, and wardrobe from our new men’s designer line. Your entry stood out above all the others and sincerely spoke to me. When can you come in so that we can start the styling process? I’m very excited to work with you.”
“Um, what?”
“I have some time tomorrow. About seven?”
“Wait. What do you mean by styling process?” Boone was beginning to smell a rat.
“I’m a fashion stylist, and that’s what I do. I’ll be working with you to find you the ideal wardrobe from our new men’s line.”
Aha. Suddenly everything fell into place. Last week his two younger brothers, Dale and Shep, had mentioned that Boone might want to start dressing better if he ever wanted to get a girl. But he did just fine with the ladies, thank you. If a woman wanted fancy-schmancy, she could go after the Taylors and Abernathys of this world. The “suits.” He wanted someone real, anyway. A woman who wouldn’t care about that sort of stuff and wouldn’t judge him the way everyone else in town seemed to.
No doubt, Thing 1 and Thing 2 had entered him into this contest as one of their many practical jokes. Last month they’d set up a fake profile for him on Tinder in which they’d written that he loved “walking in the rain and warm snuggles in front of a fireplace.”
Now Boone was going to have to explain this, and excuse his brothers’ lame joke because he didn’t either want or need a makeover. Besides, the minute this woman found out that he hadn’t even entered the contest, he’d be disqualified. Either way, he owed her an apology in person for having wasted her time. Besides, she sounded sweet, like she honestly wanted to help. It wasn’t her fault his brothers were idiots.
So he said, “Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hanging up, he headed from the stables to the sprawling luxe ranch house where his parents and younger brothers lived. He ran up the stone steps, threw open the ten-foot doors and stomped through the entry that still reminded him of the lobby of a ski resort.
“Dale! Shep! What did you two bozos do now?”
Chapter Two
The next evening, Boone pulled into the parking lot of BH Couture. Even if he’d been somewhat intrigued by the sound of the sweet voice on the other end of the phone, he wasn’t here to be friendly. He was here to explain Thing 1 and Thing 2’s latest practical joke and tell Sofia she’d have to pick someone else. Naturally, he’d apologize profusely, because his mother had raised him to be a gentleman.
Boone opened the doors and strolled inside. Not surprisingly, even the air in here smelled stuck-up. The scent was flowery, just like the perfume that his father had bought his mother recently. It was just one of the many “I love you” gestures that Neal gave Deborah on a weekly, if not daily, basis.
There were racks of clothing lining every wall, and what appeared to be hundreds of shoes. Both male and female headless mannequins were dressed in fancy duds. A large triple mirror stood in the back, in front of a white couch. A woman turned to him, and when she did, Boone stopped processing thoughts.
She was stunning. Long, straight red hair, shimmering eyes the color of milk chocolate. He’d pictured a cute and sweet girl on the other end of the line, not...this. Boone might not be a big fan of fashion, but he appreciated the way the blue dress she wore accentuated every one of her curves. He couldn’t stop staring.
“Welcome! I’m Sofia, how can I help you?”
Boone gulped. “You’re Sofia?”
“Yes.” She strutted in his direction and stopped a few feet from him.
“I’m Boone Dalton.”
She blinked and her head swiveled as if in surprise. That double take made him run a hand through his hair. He should have brushed it before coming inside. His mother tried to remind him daily that he should care a little more about his appearance. And for the first time in a long while, he did.
“B-Boone? You’re a little early. I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”
“Yeah, I should explain. See, the thing is...” He really should tell her the truth, but maybe after he’d had a chance to get her phone number. “Um, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm. Obviously, someone had to win this contest.
She cocked her head, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I bet. There’s a first time for everything. Right?”
She smiled, and that was some smile. Boone literally felt his heart rate kick up. His older brother Morgan had talked about feeling electrically zapped with a live wire when he’d met Erica, who was now his wife. Wonder if this was what he’d meant.
“Yeah. Guess you’re right.”
“Right this way, Boone. Any relation to Daniel?” She winked.
“Huh? Oh, no. Not that I know about.”
She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Just so you know, my brothers could never afford to come in here, either. Heck, if I didn’t work here, I couldn’t afford to step inside.”
Boone froze. She must think he was poor, and why not? Dale and Shep had entered him into a contest as if he couldn’t afford to pay for a brand-new wardrobe ten times over. From here, she couldn’t see Dalton’s Grange, nor the sprawling ranch house his parents lived in. She didn’t know they owned enough horses and cattle to pay for this entire building many times over. Now maybe he could just be Boone Dalton again, the man he was before all this new family wealth complicated his life.
If she liked him at all, it would be because of who he was and not what he had.
* * *
Sofia led Boone toward the back of the store. Lori, one of their salesclerks, walked by, giving Boone the side-eye. It was complete disapproval at his ultracasual look, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Obviously, she saw someone from Bronco Valley and had already made her judgments.
“Right this way, Mr. Grand-Prize Winner,” Sofia said, loudly enough for Lori to overhear.
Hey now, no being rude to our winner, missy.
The way Boone dressed met every one of her definitions of a hardworking cowboy. Tan, lightly windburned skin. She could almost picture him out on the range, in the sun, riding his trusty horse. Not like Jordan Taylor, the wealthy cattle rancher that her sister Camilla had married. Boone was the kind of cowboy the Taylors hired to do the backbreaking work.
His jeans were worn and faded, and boots a little scuffed. But none of that detracted from his staggering good looks. His wavy brown hair was naturally tousled. Her hairstylist mother, Denise, purposely achieved this mussed, strategically disheveled look for her male clientele, and they paid her well for it. Boone’s deep blu
e eyes shimmered with intelligence and...something else. Kindness, Sofia decided. Rangy and leanly muscled, he looked like a man who spent most of his time outdoors. But rather than smell like he worked outside, his scent was of leather and Ivory soap.
Back to work, Sofia. No drooling over Mr. Grand-Prize Winner.
She picked up the tablet from the end table next to the couch. “I just have a few key questions to give me some idea of your natural style.”
“My style? You’re lookin’ at it.” He grinned, and a single dimple flashed.
Hoo boy. Sofia had a thing for dimples. “Well, this is your working style, isn’t it? I mean, I’m sure you just got off a hard day working on a ranch.”
“Um, yeah.” He tipped back on his heels. “I’m a horse wrangler by trade, but I dress this way all the time.”
She quirked a brow. “Sure, but now that you’ll have a nice sparkling new designer men’s wardrobe, you’ll have more...options.”
“If you say so.”
“Surely there are weddings to attend. Dates with the ladies. Holiday parties, that kind of thing.”
For instance, the upcoming Taylor-Cruise wedding. But this poor guy probably worked for the Taylors or Abernathys. She imagined, dressed as he was, that he rarely came off the ranch. And he was a horse wrangler. How interesting. She didn’t know too much about that line of work, but one would think patience would be required. Patience and kindness.
“I don’t get invited to much.” He shrugged.
Those words hit her heart with a swift kick, but he didn’t look particularly disturbed by his lack of social connections.
“That will change once you spend some time with me.”
“Oh yeah?” He slid her a flirtatious, slow and easy smile.
She realized she’d sounded a bit too personal and clutched the tablet to her chest. “I mean, after I style you. You’re bound to get plenty of invites to parties. Maybe even a date or two.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
He took a seat on the couch, leaning back and spreading his legs in that way guys did to claim their space and exert their absolute command over it. If she read him right, he was an alpha male who needed dark colors and sleek lines. He would be transformed with the wardrobe she envisioned. Move over, Henry Cavill. Oh, yasss!
“Okay, I have a few questions to ask before I decide what perfect pieces I can put together for your new wardrobe. Answer with the first thing that comes to mind.” She sat down and started on her premade list. “Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
Like your eyes. “Favorite season?”
“I’d have to say summer. So far, this test is way too easy. When are you going to start with the hardballs?”
“This is not a test, but all right, you asked for it. Favorite movie hero?”
He seemed stumped by this question, as he drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Such weird questions. Kevin Costner.”
“That makes sense. He has acted in several Westerns.”
“What’s with all these questions?”
“This helps give me an idea of who you are.”
He slid her a slow grin. “All you have to do is spend time with me, and you’ll know.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing here?” She asked him a few more questions, which he answered, some with an eye roll.
When Sofia closed the tablet and rose, he also stood.
“That’s it?”
“Oh, hardly! This is just the beginning.” She pulled out her cloth tape measure. “Of course, I’ll...need your measurements.”
He gave her a steady, deliberate look that made her stomach quiver. What in the world was wrong with her? He was just a guy. She dated all the time. Boone was certainly a different kind of man from the type who usually asked her out, but this was no big deal. So what? He was good-looking. Stop the presses.
“You can keep your clothes on, of course.” No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than she wanted to smack her forehead.
“Good, because you have to buy me dinner before I take my shirt off.” He casually shrugged out of his leather jacket and set it down.
Gulp. There went that slow grin, and Sofia reminded herself she was at work. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”
She wasn’t going to lie; saying it out loud helped. It was a reminder to herself. Taking a deep breath, she measured the inseam of his arm and the width of his shoulders across his flannel shirt.
“Don’t you need to write this down?”
“I’ll remember.” Geez, would she remember. These were healthy shoulders. Nice and wide. And long, muscular arms, big, callused hands.
Clearing her throat, she stepped much closer to measure his waist, which earned her another slow smile.
“Okay. Got the waist.” Sofia decided to get his pant inseam at another time. Or never.
“How much longer are we going to be?” Boone said. “I’m starved.”
“Almost done here.”
“Why don’t we continue this over dinner?”
“Dinner?”
Was he asking her out? Like on a date?
“It’s that thing when two people sit down and eat food together,” he replied.
Okay, so he was a smart-ass. She almost smiled. “Well, I’m...”
“Look, I’m not trying to put the moves on you if that’s what you’re worried about. It was an early day for me, and I didn’t have time to stop for lunch. I’ll need to grab something for dinner before I can answer any more of your probing questions.”
“It’s just that I’m off in a few minutes. I was going to stay late for you, but...”
“Even better. We can do this on my own dime. I’ll pay for dinner.”
“No, I couldn’t let you do that!” With the way he looked, she should pay for his dinner.
“Don’t you want to get to know the real me?” He winked. “You haven’t even asked me about my favorite food.”
“It’s not on my list.”
“Well, it should be. Don’t you think what people like to eat tells you something about them?”
Sofia agreed, just not anything having to do with couture. But it was a thought. “Well, I did skip lunch.”
“Perfect. You can quiz me over dinner.”
Sofia decided that she had to eat anyway, so even though she had leftover chicken at home from the Library, the restaurant her sister Camilla owned, she’d treat this hardworking cowboy to a nice meal.
“Okay, then I’ll buy you dinner.” And then you can take your shirt off.
“No way. It was my idea, after all.”
Sofia didn’t know how to argue the point. He might be insulted if she didn’t think he could afford to buy her dinner. She’d just have to think of a reasonably priced place to eat.
“I’ll get my coat.”
In fact, Alexis had been bugging her to try the hooded Toscana sheepskin coat. They were often sent samples by new designers and Sofia was a standard size 6, the size designers sent. By the time she’d grabbed the beautiful coat and her purse and said her goodbyes, Boone was waiting for her just outside the entrance.
He opened it for her as he saw her approach. “Ready?”
Outside, the clear Montana night enveloped them with its usual spray of bright stars against a black-velvet sky. No snow was forecast, but the light wind was cold and biting.
“How about DJ’s Deluxe?” Boone asked as he hooked a thumb in that direction.
Though DJ’s Deluxe was within walking distance, it was on the expensive side. Maybe she could talk him into going dutch.
“My sister used to work there before she opened up her own restaurant.”
“Would you rather go there?”
“No. That’s fine. I’d like to walk if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.” They walked side by side in silence for a few seconds. “That’s a nice coat,” he finally said as he cast her a side glance.
“It’s not mine. I get to try some of the samples the designers send. I could never afford this one on my own.”
“Why? How much is it?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know. These designers set crazy prizes that only wealthy people can afford.”
“Yeah.”
Probably her imagination, but he cleared his throat and seemed a little uncomfortable as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and bent his head. Damn, had she managed to make him feel worse? She wanted him to know that despite the fact that she had some wealthy friends (and now relatives), she was part of the working class, too.
“Usually we would need reservations at DJ’s Deluxe, but since it’s a weeknight we should be fine,” Sofia said. “If not, we can sit at the bar.”
“You still haven’t asked me my favorite food.”
“Right. Okay, what’s your favorite food?”
“A juicy, flame-broiled burger. But you will never hear me say no to barbecue anything. I’m a simple guy.”
“Noted.”
Inside, DJ’s Deluxe was slammed for a weeknight, but they were able to secure a couple of bar stools.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, “they serve the full menu here.”
Until she sat down, Sofia hadn’t realized that Boone stood right behind her. He helped her off with her coat.
“Do you want me to see about checking it?” Boone leaned in close, his breath tickling her neck, which sent a tingle down her spine.
The coat was worth more than one month’s rent. She’d be too afraid to lose it. “No, I’ll just keep it with me. Thanks.”
Boone took a seat on the stool next to her, his knee bumping hers. “I guess you’ve been here plenty of times since your sister used to work here?”
“Oh, sure. I know DJ and his wife, Allaire. They live in Thunder Canyon, but he comes up often to check on the business. Allaire came up for a visit this time, too.”
Grand-Prize Cowboy Page 2
