“Okay, you have me, there. I might not be able to describe your type, but I can tell she’s not it. The heels on her boots are so high she has to walk funny.”
“Is that why she moves like a hobbled horse?”
“It takes practice to overcome that tendency. Some women are great at it. Mostly runway models, is my guess. I tried, and figured out I’d have to spend way too much time practicing before I’d achieve a purposeful stride. That’s a waste of my time.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I’ve missed you, Luce.”
“What?”
“You were always saying interesting stuff, teaching me things I didn’t know. I’ve never talked to a woman the way I talk to you.”
Her pulse rate picked up. “I guess that’s in the plus column.”
“Definitely. The hell of it is, you’re a good friend… and that’s all you can be. That’s all I can be to you. Can we handle that for the next week?”
“I’m glad you brought that up. I’ve been wondering the same thing. Maybe we could handle it better if we mostly avoid each other.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“Then one of us would have to stay home tonight.”
“I would, if that’s what you—”
“It’s not what I want at all.” She paused by the front door of Denim Junction. “This is my first chance to go to the Moose on a Saturday night and have drinks with a bunch of people I’ve known for years. If you didn’t go, that would take half the fun out of it.”
He smiled. “Only half?”
“Ninety-five percent.”
“Okay, we’ll both go. I still want you to ride in my truck, but we can pile a couple of people in the back, maybe Nick and CJ.”
“Chaperones?”
“If you want to call them that.”
“Well, they are.”
“Then that’s how we’ll play this. We’ll make sure we have chaperones. That’s easy, now that I think about it. We do most things as a group.”
“I was hoping to go out for a couple of rides on Lucky Ducky. Since I haven’t been on the trails in six years, and never in the snow, I was hoping you’d go, too.”
“I will, but we’ll invite someone else along.” He gazed at her. “This is the best plan, Lucy. Not that I can’t control myself, but…”
A shiver of desire zipped up her spine. “It’s better not to put ourselves in tempting situations.”
“Yep. It’s a no-win situation if we do.”
“Guess so.” She took a shaky breath. “Now that we have that settled, ready to help me pick out some clothes?”
“Um, what’s my role in that?”
“I’ll take some things into the dressing room. Then I’ll come out and model them for you, to get a second opinion.”
“I see.” He hesitated. “Okay, sure.” He opened the door for her.
“Thanks, good buddy.”
He muttered something she couldn’t hear.
She wouldn’t ask. Too many potential landmines. She’d be on the lookout for those from now on. She’d successfully avoided them before, keeping up the pretense of casual friendship until that fateful afternoon of her nineteenth year. One more week wouldn’t be so tough.
Once she’d gathered an armful of jeans and shirts, she parked him in a chair near the dressing rooms and began the fashion show. Turned out their tastes aligned. If his gaze lit up, she bought it. If they didn’t, it went back on the rack.
After she’d picked out enough jeans and shirts to get her through the week, she found a cozy shearling jacket and a pair of barn boots. Then, because she was going to the Moose for the first time as an adult, she bought some red dancing boots.
Matt looked doubtful about the choice. He nudged back his hat. “Are you sure about the color?”
“It goes with my hair.”
“I know, but those boots could last you ten or fifteen years, maybe more. Will you still have red in your hair in fifteen years?”
“Who knows? I might. And I love these boots. They give me happy feet.”
His gaze grew tender. “Then I guess you’d better get them.”
“I think so, too.” She was within kissing range, and the urge to rise on tiptoe and lay one on him nearly overpowered her. Taking a step back, she regained control. “This is all I need from here.” She led the way to the register and paid for her purchases.
Matt insisted on carrying both bags back to the truck. “Is that it?”
“Not quite. I have one more stop that’s somewhat critical.”
He shrugged. “We still have plenty of time. You were fast. What do you need?”
“Underwear.”
“Oh.”
“Do I detect a brief flash of panic?”
“No, I just—”
“You don’t have to watch me model it.”
He sucked in air. “I knew that.”
“Maybe, but I think you were picturing sitting by the dressing room while I waltzed out in a lacy bra and panties.”
“Possibly.”
“I assure you, that’s not how it’s done.”
His grin was sheepish. “After the fashion parade in here, I wasn’t sure, and I have my limits.”
“Have you ever gone clothes shopping with a woman?”
“You’re the first.”
“You did a super job. Thank you for your help.”
“I just sat there.”
“And you’re very talented at it.”
He laughed.
“I mean it. You didn’t have to say a word. The minute I walked out of the dressing room, your expression gave me so much information.”
“It did? How in the world could you—”
“I spent five years tuning into the look in your eyes. That’s why, six years ago, I was convinced that you… well, never mind.”
“You read me right. I just kidded myself that you were too young to see it.” He sighed. “And I hurt you.” Regret flashed in his eyes. “That was the worst part.”
“You thought it was for the best.”
“I still do.”
“I know.”
“Believe me, if things were different, I’d—”
“I know that, too.” Staring into his eyes was not a good plan. The heat simmering there ignited little fires in sensitive places. She broke eye contact. “If you want to grab a cup of coffee at Gertie’s, I can just pop across the square to the—”
“I just realized it’s next-door to Logan’s. I’ll walk with you and you can come find me when you’re done.”
“It’s a deal.” She headed across the square, Matt by her side, their footsteps crunching through a thin layer of snow, much less than had gathered in other parts of town. “Do they clear off the square on a regular basis?”
“Have to. Folks get cranky if the snow’s too thick and they can’t cut across.”
“Logan’s looks the same from the outside.”
“It’s pretty much the same on the inside, too. Jared runs it instead of his dad, but he hasn’t made any major changes.”
“I remember the last time we were in Logan’s together. You were eyeing a custom-made saddle.”
“Bought one last year.”
“Congratulations! Is it in the barn?”
“Oh, no, I keep it in the bunkhouse so I can take it to bed with me.”
She grinned. “When I think of how you used to caress that tooled leather, I almost believe you.”
“Yeah, I do love a handmade saddle. I decided Thunderbolt warranted one.”
“I’m sure he would agree with you. I’ve never seen such a regal horse. Did you get a silver-studded one?”
“It has a bit of silver on it.”
“That flashes in the sun?”
“Isn’t that the idea?”
“Okay, now that I have a vivid picture of you mounted on that stallion and sporting a snazzy hand-tooled saddle, you really have to let me see it for real.”
“Should be possible. We have a week.”
“Six days. I leave next Saturday.”
“Plenty of time for a ride or two.”
Right. And plenty of time for her to get into even deeper trouble.
Chapter Fifteen
Chaperones. That was the secret. Matt was counting on Jared to come through for him when Lucy popped into Logan’s after her shopping spree in the Racy Lace Boutique. The name alone made him break out in a sweat.
He and Jared were the same age but with wildly different backgrounds. While Jared had been busy quarterbacking the football team, Matt had preferred hot-wiring cars on the square. In the past few years, though, they’d bonded over horses and handmade saddles.
Lucy arrived carrying a pink bag that contained items Matt was giving zero space to in his fevered brain.
“Welcome back to Apple Grove, Lucy.”
“Thanks. You’re in charge of Logan’s, now?”
“That was always the plan, for me to take over so Dad could get into competitive fishing.” He eyed her pink bag. “Looks like you found some things in my new neighbor’s shop.”
“I did. Beth has some cute stuff. She mentioned being new in town.”
“She moved her business here about six months ago, all excited about the leather and lace promo possibilities.”
“How has the cross-promo worked out?”
“Good for me, especially for couples who come into Beth’s place. Any guy who’s uncomfortable in a lingerie shop can wander next door to hang out and browse. They usually buy a belt or a hatband, sometimes a pair of chaps. Every so often they order a saddle.”
“Does business flow the other way, too?”
“Not so much. Couples who come in here are usually after what I sell. Once in a great while, a woman leaves her guy here while she heads next door, but that’s rare.”
“I get that.” Lucy inhaled. “I’ll take the scent of oiled leather over flowery perfume any day.” She glanced at Matt. “Find anything you can’t live without?”
“Plenty, but I’ll have to wait a bit. Come spring, Thunderbolt will be bringing in more income. Ready to go?”
“Yep. Good seeing you again, Jared.”
“Same here. Your hair looks great, by the way.”
“Thank you. I just had it done over at Tres Beau.”
“Nice.”
Would she announce he’d patronized the place? He pulled his hat a little lower.
She gave him a wink and made for the door. “Hey, Jared, I’ll be back before I leave town. I’ve always wanted a hand-tooled belt with my name on it.”
“I can do that for you.”
Matt opened the door, tipped his hat in Jared’s direction and followed Lucy outside. “Thanks.”
“It’s not my place to announce you’ve just come from Tres Beau. But I predict after a night at the Choosy Moose you’ll be proud of that haircut.”
“Either that or I’ll be in the barber’s chair on Monday morning.”
“Matt! Promise me you won’t!”
He chuckled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. I like the haircut. I’m almost used to it.” If only he could get used to hers. The cut combined with the sassy red color was dynamite and he was becoming more combustible by the second.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Rafe said as they tucked the horses in their stalls for the evening feed. “How much did that haircut set you back?”
“Twice as much as John charges.”
“Damn. And it’ll last half as long.” Pulling on gloves, he grabbed a wheelbarrow and rolled it toward the stack of hay in the back.
“Probably.”
“That’s why Charley advised us to go see John every two months.”
“Yep.” He loaded up the second wheelbarrow.
“Charley wouldn’t go for this.”
“Nope.”
Rafe paused on his way to the front of the barn. “But here’s the truth of it. After that trip to the beauty parlor, your hair looks great, better than mine ever has.”
“Meaning?”
“It might be worth the time and money. Leo could dazzle the ladies no matter what. Even bald-headed he’d be mobbed, but the rest of us could use a little help.”
Matt grinned. “You’re working up to a visit with Josette, aren’t you?”
“Could be. Or the other one. She’s got blue hair.”
“Eva.”
“That’s it.” He started toward the front of the barn just as Lucy came in. “Hey, Lucy. Matt’s down yonder if you need to talk to him.”
“Nope. I have sketching on my mind.” She gave Matt a wave. “Thanks for the heads-up!”
“Anytime!” She’d asked him to text her when the horses would be back in the barn so she could do some sketches of Lucky Ducky. It did his heart good to see her come in with her sketchpad and pencils.
She used to have a satchel to hold her stuff. He’d seen something today that would work. Where? Oh, yeah. Jared had a soft leather one for sale. The wide shoulder strap would make it easy to carry.
Rafe paused to chat with her and Matt kept on working. Years ago she’d spent hours in the barn sketching while he worked. No big deal. Well, okay, a big deal. Her presence had energized him. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much.
She wasn’t for him. If he concentrated on that simple mantra, absorbed it into his heart, he’d be a happier man. And a more efficient man. He’d damn near skipped Thunderbolt again. His horse was going to mutiny.
He was slow as a geriatric turtle, too, as he paused every few seconds and strained to hear the random comments exchanged by Rafe and Lucy. Her cheerful voice arrowed through him, creating a longing that was not in his best interests. Or hers.
Not surprisingly, Rafe finished before he did.
“I’m heading to the bunkhouse,” he announced from the front of the barn. “Jake texted me. He and CJ are starting dinner.”
“I’ll be along in a little bit.” And there goes the chaperone. He picked up the pace.
Lucy emerged from Lucky Ducky’s stall. “Would it be okay if I did a quick sketch of Thunderbolt while I’m here?”
“Be my guest.”
“I’d like to go into his stall, if that’s possible. I only need about five minutes, ten at the most, to get something roughed out.”
“He should be fine, but I’ll go in with you since he doesn’t know you, yet.”
She beamed at him as she closed the distance. “That would be great.”
“I’ll go in first and leave the door open.” He walked back to Thunder’s stall. “You can follow me in. Wish I’d brought carrots.” He opened the latch and stepped inside.
The stallion turned, the last of the hay in his mouth. His powerful jaws worked on his dinner as he gazed at Matt.
Lucy’s voice tickled his nerve endings. “I promise this will be very quick.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Where do you want to be?”
“Over here in the corner by the door is fine.” She still wore the same outfit she’d had on earlier, except she’d substituted her new barn boots and the shearling jacket she’d bought that afternoon.
The jacket hung open, revealing that her breathing was unsteady. So what? His wasn’t all that even, either, and it had nothing to do with concern about the horse and everything to do with being alone with her in this big old barn.
Except for the horses. Thunder finished chewing his last bite and turned his attention to Lucy.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Her voice was bedroom soft. “I’d like to capture some of your majestic beauty, if that’s all right with you.”
Thunder gave out a loud snort.
Lucy smiled. “Sounds like you’re fine with it.” Bracing her back against the wall, she slid down into her typical sketching position, her pad balanced on her bent knees. She slipped a pencil from her jacket pocket and began making rapid strokes on the paper. “I went into the tack room before I started sketching so I could get a peek at your saddle. It’s stunning.”
“Thanks. Jared gets the credit.”
>
“He does good work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her breathing kept time with her pencil. “Matt?” She didn’t look up.
“What?”
“Could you get him to turn so he’s sideways to me?”
“You bet.” Looping an arm over Thunder’s neck, he used gentle pressure to coax him into the position she wanted. The stallion moved to the left with a swish of his long tail. “How’s that?”
“Perfect. Just stay there. I’m going as fast as I can.”
“No worries.” He would gladly stand here forever watching Lucy create. What a privilege. Seeing the image take shape would have been even better, but he had the wrong angle.
Her pencil moved faster and her breathing picked up speed, too. “Almost done.” Her lips parted and she tucked her tongue in the corner of her mouth, her full concentration face she used to call it.
His chest warmed as her cheeks flushed pink and happiness radiated from her in waves. She was having the time of her life.
“Done.” She glanced up, her blue eyes alight. “Thank you.” She closed the sketchpad.
“Do I get to see it?”
She rose to her feet. “Of course.” She sounded breathless. “I’ll show you in a minute. Would you mind if I gave him a little pat?”
“Not at all.”
She approached slowly, murmuring sweet nothings. Reaching up, she scratched under his mane and stroked his muscled neck. “You landed in a good spot, big boy. Matt’s the best.”
His chest tightened. “Thanks for that.”
“But enough with the compliments, right?” She smiled. “I’m keeping you from Jake’s excellent dinner.”
Jake’s dinner didn’t hold a candle to this—a chance to share Lucy’s passion for her art. Her talent was his joy and his sorrow. Witnessing it in action was breathtaking… and heartbreaking.
She left the stall and waited in the aisle while he gave Thunder a little more attention. Once he’d closed and latched the door, he turned to her, eyebrows lifted.
“Here you go.” She turned back the pages to the sketch she’d just finished.
He gasped. The image was so lifelike it seemed that it would move any second. But Thunder wasn’t the only subject. She’d put him in the picture, too.
His face was in profile, his head dipped slightly and his hand resting on the stallion’s neck. It looked like him, even down to the way his new haircut peeked out from under his Stetson. But more than that, the image conveyed his respect and love for his horse.
Sweet-Talking Cowboy Page 9
