Rhett parks off to the side of the barn and we exit the vehicle. There’s already a crowd gathered and I can’t stifle the groan. Walking into the main section which has been set up with a large open area where people are already starting to two-step, and kids racing around chasing each other. As my gaze darts around, I take in the amount of people and inwardly cringe. It’s practically the whole town. The music filters through the speakers and the dance floor is already filled with couples.
“Let’s get some beers,” Rhett says; he turns to the makeshift bar and we follow. My brother’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he glances around and I wonder if he’s looking for someone special. I’ve not really been that close with him and I don’t know if he’s got a girlfriend yet. When I was his age, I had a few too many girls hanging off my every word.
“Hey, Clayton,” a syrupy, sweet voice comes from behind me and I find my ex-girlfriend from high school, Kasey, staring back at me. We dated for two long years and to this day I don’t know why. She isn’t my type, never was, and if you asked me how we ended up dating, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.
Her white blonde hair is pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head. When I rake my gaze over her face, I notice she’s wearing too much make-up with a deep blue eye shadow and bright pink glossy lips. She looks like a cover girl for some pop magazine. I haven’t seen much of her in town or near the ranch in months, years even. I think she found out I was with someone while I was away at college and realized I wasn’t coming back.
Then I had to. I didn’t have a choice in where my life ended up.
“Hi, Kasey, how are you?” She’s changed, not for the better. Her dress is about two sizes too small and her breasts are barely covered. A shudder of revulsion rolls through me when I notice the length of the dress. She’s definitely not the same girl anymore. Most guys would gawk at the sight of her, but I don’t. If ever I were to be with any woman again, it would be a girl who’s shy, yet quirky, and challenging. Someone who can hold a conversation, and someone who doesn’t need a ton of make-up to feel pretty. I want someone naturally beautiful, inside more than out.
“I’m good. Did you want to dance?” She offers a smile, sultry, seductive, but I shake my head. Her face falls in disappointment at my refusal. I can’t bring myself to lead her on, even if I did dance with her, nothing would come of it. Nothing she wants anyway.
“No thanks, darlin,’ I’m just here to have a couple of drinks.” With a smile, I turn and find Rhett grabbing two bottles of local beer. “I need that,” I grunt, grabbing one and downing half the bottle in one long gulp.
He smirks, giving me a knowing look as he watches me drain the bottle. “She’s still on your ass?”
Nodding, I shake my head in frustration. “I wish she’d get the hint. I’m not interested, won’t be for a while. I have too much to focus on. The ranch needs me.”
He nods, slapping me on the back and gesturing to the dance floor. “Watch a few skirts, drinks some beers, and have a good night, Clay. I know you’re not looking for a relationship, but you need to relax.” Clinking his bottle on mine, he regards me with a smirk. With a quick glance around, I take in the crowd. Everyone in town is here. Taking a long drink of my beer, I lean my elbow against the counter of the bar and settle against it, raking my gaze over each person. Nobody catches my attention. This is pointless, but I’ll give Rhett the benefit of the doubt.
Chapter Two
Essie
This is ridiculous. I’ve been sent out to the sticks to evaluate a property that I doubt will be worth the time. The current owners have missed two payments, which puts them in the red with the bank, on a second mortgage. I hate the way our business works sometimes. Perhaps they’re going through financial difficulty. Or even a loss which puts them in a downward spiral. At the moment though I don’t see how the owners are going to make the latest payment and if they don’t the house will become property of the bank, which is why Mr. Nicholson is preying on this particular property. One came in only two weeks ago, but it was late.
My boss has decided to swoop in and snatch it up at a low price which will leave the owners with crumbs once they’ve managed to pay off what they owe. I don’t understand what his plan is, but Mr. Nicholson is adamant.
I’ve been working for Nicholson Estates International for three years. I’ve proven myself time and again by being there when I’m called in on emergencies that other agents couldn’t handle. I’ve rented more properties, sold more apartments than any of the other interns, or junior agents, but he’s never given me a real chance to grow. Every time I think he’s finally going to offer me a promotion, I’m shoved on the back burner. Frustration ebbs at me and it flows through the deep breaths I release.
Running is the only way I can let my mind calm from the daily stress of working for Wesley Nicholson. Yes, I’ve learned the business from the ground up, but it’s time I get more. I need to prove to him and my parents that I’m not some ditzy blonde who should sit back and allow a man to look after me. I’m independent and I need them to finally recognize my abilities.
“Essie?” My best friend’s voice drags me from my daydreams of the promotion I’m working toward—running the Los Angeles office that Wesley is opening in six months’ time. “Are you sure about this?” she asks.
Stepping into the room, I nod. It’s only just hit seven, so the dance at the barn down the road is only getting started. When I told my best friend Chloe about having to live here, in Wyoming, in the middle of nowhere, for three weeks to assess the property potential, she decided to spend a couple of days with me while I got my bearings.
Even though I’ve been given the first week as vacation, I want to spend time looking around the town to make sure I know what’s surrounding the ranch in question.
“You were the one who decided to tag along.” I shrug, wiping my face with the towel and head into the bathroom. It’s a quaint bed-and-breakfast that I’ve been booked into, and it’s got a warmth and homely feel that the home I grew up in never did. The small town in Wyoming is called Jackson Hole, and when I first saw the name, I really was worried about it being a hovel. But, surprisingly since we’ve arrived, the people have been friendly and the place itself is beautiful.
If I wasn’t such a city girl, I’d probably live in a town like this. Growing up in Sacramento has allowed me to grow up with the love of a city, the noise and busy streets. Even the traffic I complain about every day. I wonder if spending a month here would change my views.
As I open the taps of the shower, I allow the water to cascade and heat up. A quick glance in the mirror reflects my rosy cheeks and sweat-soaked hair. I’m indeed a hot mess. My body is slim, I’ve always had a flat chest and small hips. As a dancer, it came in handy. As a woman who’s about to turn twenty-six, it’s frustrating.
Once the room is steamed up, I step under the hot spray and close my eyes, slowly reveling in the way the water massages my shoulders. Standing under the cascade of water allows me to think clearly, it’s the one place I have time to consider my decisions and life changing choices.
“Come on, EssieBess.”
Groaning at Chloe’s nickname for me, I rinse off and turn off the spray. A fluffy towel awaits me when I step out and I wrap it around me quickly. The door flies open and my best friend glares at me.
“You take way too long,” she retorts playfully and I can’t help giggling.
“Stop whining,” I shoot back. My response is met with an eye roll as she strips off. Her straight red hair is long and hangs to her lower back. We’re complete opposites, but we’ve found friendship in each other. When I first met her in middle school, she was the loud-mouthed kid in the back of the class and I was the quiet one sitting in the front making sure I got all my notes done.
Her quirky sassiness, and my shy but friendly personality, fit like puzzle pieces. With her being more outgoing than I am, she’s always been the one pulling me along to all the events her work throws, as well as girl�
��s nights out.
In the bedroom, I grab the outfit I’d set out and get dressed. The cut-offs are a deep blue jean material and the loose fitting yellow tank top is comfortable with small flowers in an intricate pattern. Pulling my hair into a messy bun, I leave a few wavy strands to frame my face.
My red framed glasses frame my big blue eyes and I add a touch of gloss to my full lips. “Wow, you going to be picking up a cowboy tonight?” Chloe’s surprised tone comes from behind me and I spin around to find her gawking at me.
“What? No! I wear stuff like this all the time.” Glancing at my outfit, I wonder if it’s too much. “Do you think I need to change?” I question my best friend.
“No, you look amazing.” She shakes her head. She’d already dressed in the bathroom, wearing a bright pink knee-length dress with a thin white belt around her torso under her breasts. Her curves are incredible, and I take in my slim frame again. I’ve been self-conscious about my boyish figure most of my life, and its times like these I wonder if men prefer curvier girls. “Hey, don’t go there sweetheart, you look amazing,” she reassures me.
I offer a small smile. Chloe, or as I like to call her Coco, knows how I feel about my appearance. I tend to wear baggy clothes to hide behind. I went through a rough patch in my teens and suffered from an eating disorder before she helped pull me out of it. Slipping my feet into the flat white strappy sandals, I watch her put her pink one’s on. They’re similar styles, since we’re both not fans of heels. “I’m okay, let’s go.” I grab the keys and my purse and we make our way out.
The air is warm and I can’t help enjoying the heat. People from town are all making their way toward the large barn at the end of the road which has their doors wide open, and from where we are, I can tell that the whole town is probably there.
Once we reach the doors, I feel gazes turn to us and the self-conscious side of me has my heart rate accelerating. “Just breathe,” Chloe whispers, slipping her hand in mine. We make our way to the make-shift bar and when we reach it, the young man behind it smiles.
“Heya, ladies, what can I get you both?”
“I’ll have a beer, please?” My mousy voice is soft, but somehow, he hears me over the din of the music and crowd.
“Same for me,” Chloe says, and he nods and turns to grab two glass bottles from a large steel tub filled with ice and water. I watch his hands work as he uncaps them and sets them on the counter. I pull a twenty dollar note from my purse, but he shakes his head.
“It’s on me, darlin.’ Enjoy.” With a wink, he heads over to serve the couple beside us. My cheeks heat, the blush must be obvious.
“Well, I’m liking this little town, Essie,” my best friend hisses quietly in my ear as she sips her beer. Lifting the bottle, I spin around and smack into a solid form. A blue shirt greets me, but it’s the rock-hard muscle below it that has me biting my lip to stifle a moan. My gaze trails up to find a chiseled jaw with a light dusting of stubble. And as I lift my eyes further, I find a sharp nose, then my perusal locks on the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I’m… I… Sorry…” my mumble is intelligible and I inwardly cringe.
“That’s all right, Honey Bee,” a raspy murmur comes from a set of delicious looking lips and I find myself wondering what they taste like. “You new in town?”
I nod dumbly. Words seem to evade me in this man’s presence. He’s handsome, rugged, and I’m acutely aware of how close our bodies are.
The scent of his cologne reminds me of spice, and a hint of citrus mixed with the smell of a cigar. Perhaps he was standing beside someone smoking. It’s an intoxicating fragrance.
Chuckling, he steps back, taking me in as he says, “Welcome to Jackson Hole.” He reaches a hand toward me and I slip mine in his. The touch sends heat flushing through me as we shake. As soon as he drops his hand, I miss it.
“Thank you,” I manage to mumble.
“She speaks,” he teases, smiling. Glancing at my friend he says, “Hi, I’m Clay.” I watch as Chloe introduces herself, clearly not as affected by him as I am.
“Clay!” A man saunters up to us, dressed in a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. “Well, hello beauties,” he offers with a smirk, giving us his hand. “I’m Rhett, the handsomer one.” He chuckles as we each shake his hand.
“I’m Estha, or Essie,” I inform him with a smile. His eyes are bright, shimmering reminding me of the ocean.
He tips his head, but when his gaze darts to my best friend, they sparkle with something more than just a friendly glance.
“Chloe, I’m the crazy best friend.” She giggles playfully.
“I kinda like crazy,” Rhett rumbles in his Southern accent. The smirk that curls his lips is pure sin. Who knew cowboys were so hot? My city girl brain can’t fathom the sexiness of these two men. I’m used to dating suits, men in a shirt and tie, but there’s something about these cowboy hats, jeans that seem to be painted on thick muscled thighs, and those incredibly rough, calloused hard working hands. “And does the crazy best friend like to dance?” Rhett asks.
“Of course I like to dance, cowboy,” she lilts flirtatiously, giving him her hand with a matching sinful smile. I can’t help shaking my head at her. She’s never been one to fall easily, so I know her heart will be safe, but the way she’s staring at him makes me hope he’s a good guy.
I smile then, giving their backs a rueful look as the two disappear into the crowd. I’m left with the blue-eyed man who seems to have control over my voice. Every time I meet his gaze, my heart leaps into my throat and words are difficult to find.
“I’m sorry about that, Rhett is a little over the top,” he murmurs, the country twang in his voice deep and husky, which doesn’t help the heat that’s settled between my thighs.
“That’s… that’s okay…” Tipping the bottle, I take a long swig, hoping it will give me some liquid courage to form an articulate sentence.
He lifts the bottle he’d been holding to his lips, and as much as I don’t want to stare, I find myself gawking at the way his lips wrap around it and how his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down with each swallow.
What is it about this man?
“So,” clearing my throat, I drag my gaze away from him with great difficulty, “is this a regular Friday night in Jackson Hole? The dance, I mean.” Allowing my eyes to flit over the crowd, I watch as my best friend takes to two stepping like she’s been born to do it.
“No, at least, not for me. This is the first time I’ve been out for a long while. My best friend,” he lifts his drink in gesture toward Rhett, “he’s the party animal.” He doesn’t continue, which has me glancing back toward him.
“So, what do you normally do on a Friday night?” For some reason, I really want to know. I’ve never really been intrigued by someone like I am with him. Those blue eyes darken momentarily and his brows furrow, but as soon as the concern crosses his face, it’s gone.
“I work seven days a week. No time to party, unfortunately.” It sounds like a standard response, as if he’s rehearsed it.
“All work and no play…” I allow the words to taper off, with my gaze trained on his profile, I take in the way his jaw ticks.
“Some people aren’t afforded those choices,” he responds, his tone thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, I tend to put my foot in it. Have a good night.” Smiling, I head toward the exit and step out of the crowded barn. There’s a few people milling around outside and I make my way to the swing bench near the corner of the large structure. A strange place for it, but nevertheless, I settle on the wooden seat and look up at the stars. In the city, we’re not afforded the beauty of the open sky. The twinkling lights above me dance on their inky background.
The crunch of footsteps startles me and when I drop my gaze, I find Clay standing beside the bench. His hands are in his front pockets and his hat is tipped in such a way that covers his eyes. His mouth, the only area visible, is curled in an almost shy smile. I say almost because when he
lifts his head and meets my gaze, there’s something else dancing in those enchanting blue pools. “I’m not used to talking to people… strangers… I mean, pretty girls.”
“Why don’t you sit down, maybe we can talk. I hear it’s not so bad to just get to know someone,” I offer, scooting over to allow him space. As soon as his body is beside me, that wave of heat that he emanates cocoons me. He’s not stifling like most men are, and we relax into a comfortable silence. The music filters from inside and I immediately recognize the song Just a Kiss by Lady Antebellum.
“I don’t dance,” he offers in a whisper and I can’t help giggling. Facing him, I take in how the flames of the bonfire dance in his eyes. He sighs, a long soft sound. “I’m… I guess people call it anti-social.”
“Me too,” my response earns me a stare from this handsome stranger. “I’m what they call geeky. I love my job, my folks, and my best friend. And my cat.” His lips quirk into a smile, it’s a genuine, handsome one, and I return it.
“So, you like animals?” he asks. I nod. “I live on a ranch, we’ve got two dogs and horses. No cats though, my mom’s allergic,” he explains with a chuckle.
“I can’t say I’ve ever been on a horse. I’m a city girl, so the closest I would have come is one of those carousal steeds when I was five.” My comment earns me a loud chortle. “I’m serious, that was my first and last cowgirl adventure.”
“Maybe we can remedy that,” Clay says with a wicked glint in his eyes.
“No way! If I fall off, which will be the most likely outcome—”
“I’ll catch you if you fall.” His words hang in the air between us and I can’t stop my heart beating erratically in my chest. And at that, I find myself speechless. What do you even say to that?
Dirt Road Promises Page 2
