“Just stick with you and I might get in on a Saturday night sometime?” He grinned.
My goodness, that dimple! “Maybe. I don’t like to pull any favors, though.”
“I’ve been here before with my...” He hesitated. “Brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Four of them. It’s cruel. Two older and two younger. Thing 1 and Thing 2 are the youngest.”
She laughed. “So you’re the middle child. No sisters?”
“Nope.” He shook his head and grinned. “My poor sainted mother.”
“I’m sure she loves being surrounded by her adoring boys.”
He snorted. “That’s one way to put it. At least now she has a couple of daughters-in-law.”
“We both have large families. There are five of us, too. I have Camilla, that’s my sister, then my three brothers. Felix, Dylan and Dante, who are all older.”
She paused, wondering how much more she should tell him about Camilla. She was now married to a multimillionaire, Jordan Taylor of Taylor Beef. Probably not someone that Boone would know personally, but there was no way a Bronco resident would not have heard of Taylor Beef. Especially not a cowboy. Still, Sofia didn’t want to sound like a name-dropper.
She redirected the conversation to her parents and something he might relate to. “My father, Aaron, works for the post office. He says since he’s delivered the mail in this town for years and years, he knows everyone’s secrets.”
Boone’s neck swiveled back, and was that concern she saw flicker in his eyes? Hmm.
What do you have to hide, Mr. Grand Prize?
“He’s just kidding, of course,” she quickly added to put him at ease. “And my mom, Denise, is a hairstylist.”
“Style runs in the family.”
Sofia couldn’t resist, and her fingers, almost independent from her brain, reached to rumple Boone’s hair. “You have no idea how much men pay for hair like yours.”
Yep, just as she thought. Not an ounce of hair spray or gel on that hair. But she regretted satisfying her curiosity a moment later. The casual gesture suddenly felt far too intimate. Boone’s eyes smoldered with heat, and tension spread between them heavy and thick.
“What’s so great about my hair?”
She swallowed and busied herself with studying the menu she knew by heart. “It’s adorably tousled.”
“It’s called the wind, and I’m not wearing my hat.”
“Regardless, men ask my mom for this style all the time. It’s usually achieved with plenty of hair spray and gel to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere.”
She would have said more, but he was studying her with hooded eyes, and she thought food was a safer subject than his hair.
“All right. What are you having?” she asked, breaking eye contact. “I highly recommend the potato skins.”
“I haven’t tried those yet. I’m a burger and domestic beer kind of guy.”
“And I agree. The simple things are often the best.” She flipped through the menu, trying to distract herself from the giddy sense of being on a date with her new crush.
Hold up. This was not a date. Just two new friends having dinner together because they both happened to be hungry. He was the winner of the contest, her client, and she refused to be unprofessional. This meant that even though she couldn’t stop noticing his smoldering hot looks, this would have absolutely no effect on her whatsoever.
“I... I think I’m going to have the potatoes...hot potatoes,” Sofia said, risking another look at that sexy beard bristle on his jaw.
“Hot potatoes? Aren’t they always hot?” Boone slid her a grin.
“Um, what?” Sofia straightened. Too much reflecting on the hot cowboy next to her. “I meant the potato skins. Yes, of course, they’re hot, too. You know what, I always have those. I’m having a burger tonight.” She shut the menu.
“Why don’t we get potato skins as an appetizer and we can share them?”
But this night was going to cost him more than she’d intended. The last thing he needed was a big restaurant bill. Maybe she should switch her order to a simple garden salad.
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t have the room for all that food.”
He winked. “I assure you, I have enough room for the both of us.”
“Maybe I should just have a garden salad instead,” she offered.
“Have the burger. That’s what you want.”
“Um, okay, then.”
She hoped that he had a bigger food allowance than he did a clothing one.
Chapter Three
Boone forced his attention to the menu. It dawned on him that Sofia obviously didn’t think he could afford a place like DJ’s. Boone had been in here plenty of times before with his brothers. Unfortunately, the last time he’d had a few too many beers and nearly started a fistfight. Some rancher type had muttered “lowlife” in Shep’s direction. Boone didn’t care what anyone said of him, but no one would talk to his brother like that.
Unfortunately, his tendency to be a little rough around the edges was the least of his problems at the moment. Sofia clearly believed him to be someone’s ranch hand, not a landowner. Truthfully, even though Dalton’s Grange belonged to his family, he’d only moved to Bronco because his mother asked him to. He’d have been happy to continue living in Whitehorn. Back there, Boone knew when a woman liked him. Now, every woman he met seemed to know all about Dalton’s Grange, and ordered every expensive item off the menu.
But then again, it was entirely possible that Sofia hadn’t yet made the connection to him and Dalton’s Grange. Possibly due to the sad letter his brothers had written that had apparently made him sound like a street urchin.
As they lingered over their burgers and beers, Sofia told him about her family. They were obviously a close bunch, having a big dinner together every Sunday. Growing up, Boone’s family had done the same. But in recent years, Boone hadn’t joined them, and he tended to treat Neal as more of an employer than a father.
“You’re close to your family. It’s nice to see,” Boone said. “Not everyone can say the same.”
“How about you?”
“I’m close to my mother. And to my brothers, even if the two younger ones are a couple of bozos.”
“Bozos?” She scrunched up her adorable nose.
“We’re always playing practical jokes on each other. But they seem to have way more time on their hands than I do. Last week, they set up a fake Tinder profile for me.”
Sofia laughed. “You’re not the online dating type, then?”
“Nope. Are you?”
“Are you kidding me? My father would kill me if I tried that, and if he didn’t, my brothers would. I’m supposed to meet someone the old-fashioned way.” She pulled out her phone. “But I’m pretty active on social media. I have to be, for my career.”
“That’s another thing I don’t do.”
“You’re kind of old school for someone so young.”
Boone shook his head and pulled his phone out from his jacket. “Don’t have great Wi-Fi on the ranch anyway. If it helps, I give great text.”
If she caught the play on words, she gave him no clue. “Good to know.”
“Here.” He reached for her phone and sent himself a text. “Now you have me in your phone. Text me anytime.”
“Okay, cowboy.” She had a sweet smile that lit up her entire face.
Boone hadn’t missed the fact that almost every guy here had his eye on her the moment they’d walked in. She’d waved to quite a few people, who all waved back. Sofia carried herself with the air and sophistication of a confident woman. Boone admired her self-assurance, and he’d bet she moved seamlessly between her two worlds.
“You must work with a lot of wealthy people at the store,” Boone said carefully.
He wond
ered what the odds were that she’d styled his sister-in-law, Erica Abernathy Dalton.
“Yes, that’s true.” She seemed thoughtful. “I think Jessica Taylor has us on speed dial.”
Cornelius Taylor’s fourth, or was that his fifth, wife? He defined everything Boone detested about this town. Say what you will about Neal, but though he’d cheated on Boone’s mother, he’d wised up. He claimed to love his wife, and Boone wanted to believe it, but he’d probably never forgive his old man for his indiscretions and the agony he’d caused his mother.
“Actually, my sister is married to Jordan Taylor, Cornelius’s son.” She took a pull of her beer and set it down. “And I know what you’re thinking, but Jordan...he’s different.”
Good thing he hadn’t said more about Cornelius. But he also thought Erica was special, both to Morgan and their family, so maybe there was some truth to her words. Not everyone was tainted by their family, he supposed.
“My family is still pretty new to Bronco, and maybe because of that, it feels like we’re not as accepted by some.”
“You all moved here together?”
“I didn’t want to leave Whitehorn, but my mother begged all of us brothers to come along. We were scattered all over Montana at the time. This is like a new start for all of us. She had a heart attack, and I guess she realizes how fragile the time we have together is. Me, too. I don’t know how much longer she’ll be around.”
“Oh, Boone. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all good. She’s fully recovered. But her heart attack made us all realize we’re a family, and we always will be.”
Even if sometimes he wished to cut dear old dad out of the picture. Neal Dalton didn’t deserve Deborah’s forgiveness. His unfaithfulness wasn’t a “slipup,” as she referred to it. He didn’t put a shoe on the wrong foot. But Boone didn’t need to lay all his family dysfunction on Sofia.
After dinner, Boone paid, and they walked the two blocks back to the store.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said, her hand on the lapel of her luxurious coat. “We can start on your makeover tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Sure, I’ll swing by around the same time.”
She clicked her keys to unlock her economy sedan, and he swung the door open for her.
Boone waited until she drove away before he walked to his own fully loaded, brand-spanking-new Land Rover. Climbing in, he pulled out his phone and sent her a quick text, replying to the one he’d sent himself from her phone:
Hey, it’s me, the one with great text. See you tomorrow.
* * *
The next morning, Boone walked over from his cabin on Dalton’s Grange to check in on his mother. He had a long day ahead, going through the paces with Nugget, making sure she’d be ready for her owner, a fifteen-year-old girl who barrel-raced competitively.
The crisp Montana air lifted his spirits on his walk, as did the thought he’d be seeing Sofia again tonight. When he’d gotten home last night she’d texted him back:
You’re right. You give great text. Thank you again for dinner.
She added a burger emoticon, followed by a yummy emoticon, followed by a happy face.
He’d never met a woman quite like her, someone who seemed just as comfortable in her own skin with a poor ranch hand as with an Abernathy type. Even though her sister was married to Jordan Taylor, Boone didn’t get the feeling that Sofia wanted her own millionaire. Otherwise, why waste her time with him?
Then again, last night hadn’t been a date, even with all the flirting. He’d have to find out first if she’d date him without knowing about all his money. Today or tomorrow, he’d tell her about his brothers entering this contest for him. It didn’t feel right to keep that from her, but what if she then wanted to choose someone else? Not having entered on his own would disqualify him.
He found his mother in the spacious kitchen with exposed wood beams, looking out the window at their expansive view of the Montana skyline. The fireplace that separated the kitchen from the great room roared with a warm fire. A nice image, and Boone’s heart swelled because his mother finally had the home of her dreams. She deserved it and then some.
“Hey, honey.” She turned to him, a mug in her hands.
“I hope that’s decaf.” He pointed to her cup before he bussed her cheek.
“Decaf herbal tea,” she said with a smile. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“Still working with the quarter horse. She goes back in a few days.”
“Do you want me to cook you a nice breakfast? Your father and I already ate.”
“Nah, I don’t have time for that. Just wanted to pop in and say hi.” Still, he grabbed a muffin from the basket on the granite counter.
Dale blew in then, smelling fresh off mucking stalls. “Hey, Mr. Grand Prize.”
“And there’s the other reason I’m here,” Boone said. “I need to thank my brothers for entering me in a contest I didn’t know existed and wouldn’t have wanted to win even if I had.”
“What did you do now, Dale?” his mother said, hand on her hip.
Dale looked suddenly uncomfortable under their mother’s scrutiny, and before he could even open his mouth, Boone told her. “They entered me to win a makeover at BH Couture and a designer wardrobe.”
“Dale! What does Boone need with that?”
“He doesn’t have to take the makeover, though he sure could use it,” Dale quipped, washing his hands at the sink. “When’s the last time you got a new pair of boots, anyway?”
“What’s the big deal? Every time they get too worn, I buy new ones. I can only wear one pair at a time. But he’s right, Mom. I think I need a makeover.”
Dale howled. “You’re going through with this?”
“I should thank you idiots. You introduced me to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I think I’ll be the one having the last laugh here.”
“You’re welcome,” Dale said.
“How wonderful, Boone,” his mother said. “I’ve always said you look so handsome in a suit.”
“When have you ever seen in him in a suit?” Dale asked.
“Let me think. I guess it was Morgan’s wedding?”
Boone held up a hand. “Don’t remind me. That wasn’t a suit. I felt like a penguin.”
All three were laughing when their father strolled into the kitchen and went right up to his wife. He set her mug down and pulled her into his arms. “Good morning, my angel.”
“You already said good morning, sweetheart.”
“Well, it’s still a good morning, isn’t it?” He kissed her, for a little too long, in Boone’s opinion.
Boone exchanged a look with Dale. Secretly, they both believed Neal should drop to his knees every morning before Deborah. But she seemed happy, so they were all trying to accept the fact that their parents were behaving like newlyweds.
“I better get going.” Boone strode through the kitchen toward the glass-and-wood-paned doors of the wraparound deck.
He was all the way down the steps when Neal called out to him. “Boone!”
Boone stopped but didn’t turn around. “What?”
Neal ran down the rest of the steps to meet him. “Are you always going to bolt from the room when I walk in?”
Boone turned slowly. “Don’t make this about you. I have a lot of work today.”
“You boys are going to have to come around sooner or later. Your mother forgave me. Holt and Morgan, too. Why can’t you?”
He made it sound like he’d accidentally stepped on her foot. Boone spoke through his tight jaw. “I’m working on it.”
“Maybe you want to try talking to me sometime, like a son. I’d like you to be an example to Dale and Shep. They both look up to you. While they’re still living at the main house, I have a real chance to get them to forgive me also, and we can all move on.”
Yeah, Boone thought. And then Neal could come out looking like the good guy, all shiny and bright.
He’d gambled, and that one time, it paid off big. Never mind all the times he drank too much, stayed out all night and lost money at the tables.
Boone remembered those nights, when his mother looked worried and worn out. When Boone would catch her waiting up late for Neal, glancing at her watch, sometimes waiting by the phone. His father screwed up, time and again—yet his mother would always take him back.
“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for Mom and continue to do. Just keep it up. She’s obviously forgiven you, and as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.” He started on his way, till his father’s comment made him turn back.
“I wish it were that simple.”
For the first time in ages, Boone took a good long look and realized that Neal Dalton looked whipped, the lines around his eyes deeper than last year, and Boone almost felt a tug of sympathy. Then he remembered his mother’s heart attack and the sympathy fled.
“I want to do something for each of you boys,” Neal told him. “Something to make up for everything I’ve put you all through. It wasn’t just your mother I let down.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need anything else. This ranch and the work I can do here is enough.”
“There has to be something else. Some way I can help get your name out as a top horse wrangler. Maybe there’s some kind of business angle here I’m not seeing yet.”
Just like his father to look at ways of raking in even more money. He just didn’t get it, and Boone had no more patience for this conversation. “I’ve got a horse to train, so I better get going.”
“Fine, son. You go on ahead. I’m proud of you. Folks are saying you’re the best horseman they’ve ever seen. The horse whisperer of Bronco, they say.”
And here Boone thought he was the only one who called himself that. Good to know that after two years of being in this town he was getting some respect—as a horseman, if nothing else.
Grand-Prize Cowboy Page 3
