She didn't have time to worry about where she'd sleep tonight. Right now, she had to face this interview. She found a public restroom and washed up as best she could, dressed in the slim, dark wash jeans and dress boots she'd bought for the occasion. She wetted her hair down in the sink and dried it with her hair dryer, then put it up in rollers and sprayed it with copious amounts of hair spray. Hopefully that would battle through the humidity in the air tonight.
Then she donned the glittery black snap shirt she'd chosen for the occasion. She focused on keeping her breathing even and deep. Ran through the instructions Pieter had given her. Pretend the judge is Kylie. Breathe deeply. Keep composure. Think.
She didn't understand him. Pieter had spent nearly an hour, at lunch and then on the road, coaching her. As if he'd had media training himself or at least been in the public eye often. She still didn't know anything about him.
Except that she'd thought he might kiss her back beside the interstate.
And she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her cousins had often told her that her looks, her body, were the only things men would be interested in.
She'd been very careful not to put herself in a position that would prove her cousins right. She hadn't gone to prom. Hadn't ever been in the backseat of some teenage boy's car.
She'd never even been kissed.
And she had the sense that Pieter was a player. A rogue. That he had experience—a lot of it. Someone like him would probably laugh at someone as inexperienced as she was, thinking that he’d wanted a kiss.
She yearned to be valued for more than just her appearance.
She did the best she could with the makeup—she rarely wore any, and without a mom around, didn't know what she was doing—and took her hair down, spraying it again with the aerosol hairspray.
She'd left her black felt hat in the truck and needed to put her duffel back. The cooling evening air had her taking a deep breath, though it did little to calm her jangling nerves.
When she hit the gravel parking lot, Pieter was there.
He took one look at her and then a double-take. "What'd you do to your makeup?"
Her stomach flipped at his question and the horrified expression on his face.
"What?" Her face went hot, but she hid it as she opened the passenger door and tossed her duffel onto the front seat, then ducked around the open door to lean down and look at her face again in the side-view mirror.
"You've…" He rounded the front of the truck, moving toward her and shaking his head. "You can't go to the interview like that."
Was it that bad? She didn't think she looked like a clown or anything. "I did the best I could."
"Wasn't there any other woman in there who could've helped you?"
She shook her head. She'd been alone in the public restroom and knew that most of the other queen competitors were likely getting ready in hotel rooms or travel trailers. Besides, who would want to help a nobody like her, anyway?
"It's too late—" she started, but he shook his head almost violently.
"Do you have one of those makeup-remover wipes? Maybe we can fix this."
She did, though she had to dig through the duffel to get to the package.
"Where's your makeup bag?"
Seriously? He was going to do her makeup?
She guessed it was no more of a role reversal than her changing the tire on his truck. She motioned to the duffel—there wasn't anything she was ashamed of in there—and he pulled out the gallon-sized plastic zipper bag stuffed with the remnants of makeup she'd collected during her teen years.
She'd never purchased makeup for herself. When you were dirt poor, even the cheap drugstore stuff was out of range.
So when girls at school would leave the ends of their eyeshadow or blush in the bathroom, she'd take it. She wasn't proud of it, and it probably wasn't the most sanitary thing, but it was what it was.
She hardly ever wore it anyway.
But she saw the furrow of his brow as he looked through the odds and ends.
She scrubbed at her face with the wipe and pretended she didn't care.
"So you've done this before?"
Shadows fell around them as Pieter fought to keep his focus on the tiny eyeshadow brush he was wielding and not the smooth face beneath his fingertips. From this close, McKenna's lush lips were a distraction he could ill afford. Each breath she took warmed the skin of his chin and jaw.
"No," he admitted. "But I've watched."
He'd smeared plenty of lipstick before and watched as dates had reapplied their makeup. Sometimes on large wall-mounted mirrors. Sometimes on small compact mirrors.
And anything had to be better than the job McKenna had done on herself. The colors hadn't been natural, the base washing out her complexion and the too-dark blush making her look like a vampire or something.
He finished applying the smoky gray color that made her eyes pop and went back to the plastic bag McKenna had given him with her makeup inside.
That had been eye-opening.
"So... This is an interesting collection of makeup for an aspiring rodeo queen."
Her eyes remained closed. "My family doesn't have a lot of money."
He'd guessed as much from the sorry state of her horse trailer and the dilapidated truck, but this was... He didn't purchase makeup obviously, but he didn't think it could cost that much, even for the department store brands. She seriously didn't even have a couple hundred bucks for something so important in a pageant?
He was beginning to think perhaps her aspirations to be a rodeo queen were a long shot. Wouldn't the other girls have the very best?
Not that McKenna didn't look hot in those slender jeans that showed off shapely legs and that black button-up shirt that sparkled with her every movement.
But she was all country girl. They'd be polished.
Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it now.
He tried to remind himself why he was here, that he shouldn't care about some waif he'd picked up on the roadside. He'd only given her a lift because he wanted the boon, hadn't he?
What did it matter if she failed in her little mission? He wouldn't see her again after this weekend.
Except it mattered to her. Couldn't forget the pinched expression on her face when she'd hung up on her cousin, or the determination she'd shown when he'd peppered her with questions over lunch.
"So how'd you end up with your horse?" he asked. "If your family isn't well off?"
Pieter didn't know anything about horses, but even he could see that the animal was quality. Tall with strong lines, and that glossy black hair...
"He was my dad's. Dad was a small-time farmer with big dreams of breeding horses."
She'd mentioned her dad briefly before, that he'd passed away, and Pieter couldn't help noticing the little catch in her voice.
"You should see him perform…"
Her voice trailed off, her eyelids fluttered open, and he was distracted by the depths of her eyes. It took him a moment to realize she was still talking about the horse and not her father.
"I mean, if you aren't busy tomorrow, the horsemanship competition is during the early afternoon."
Soft pink rose into her cheeks. He could almost feel the warmth beneath his fingertips as he smoothed out the blusher on her cheeks.
"I'm not sure I'll be around. I'm heading out to find a hotel in a bit." He let his hands fall away from her. Needed the distance. "Finished. You can do the lipstick yourself."
He tossed the blusher back into the plastic bag and held out the softer pink color than what she'd previously been wearing—a bright red that had clashed with her blush.
She bent slightly to see herself in the truck's side mirror. "Huh. You did a good job."
It certainly wasn't perfect, wouldn't stand up to the models he'd dated before, but it was much better than what she'd done.
She pursed her lips slightly, applying the lipstick quickly.
He moved another step back when sh
e straightened, smacking her lips together lightly. "Thank you."
He nodded.
She put the lipstick back and turned away momentarily, then placed a black cowboy hat atop her head, completing her look.
She might not be perfect, but she was stunningly beautiful. If the judge was a male, no matter what age, he would have trouble concentrating on the event and not the woman.
"Okay," she said on a breathy exhale. She shook out her hands, and he couldn't help but notice her trembling.
"You'll be fantastic," he said, because it seemed like the right thing to say. And some small, long unused part of him wanted to comfort her in the face of her nervousness.
But instead of smiling back at him, her head tilted slightly to one side, and she seemed to be searching his face. There was no mistaking the hint of vulnerability in the depths of her eyes.
And, stupid him, he reached out and squeezed her hand briefly, the contact with her ice-cold digits a small shock. "I promise," he said, though he really couldn't promise any such thing.
But the slow smile that dawned across her face made him not care if his words were true. He'd do nearly anything to see that smile again.
5
It was dark when McKenna returned to the fairgrounds parking area where Maximus's trailer remained, now unhooked from Pieter's truck.
There was movement inside the different RVs parked all around, muted voices from other queen contestants and rodeo competitors.
It made her feel a little lonely, trudging back to her horse trailer all alone. What would it be like if her mom had been alive? If she'd come along on McKenna's adventure? If she’d been waiting, ready to encourage her or mop up tears?
Or if her dad had still been here, cheering from the stands?
It was hard to imagine and a little silly to even think about. McKenna didn't need anyone waiting for her.
Good thing, too, because Pieter's truck was gone, just like he'd said. She hadn't expected him to stay, not really. He'd only come to the rodeo to meet up with his cousin, and somehow he'd taken her on as a little side project along the way.
She had to remember she still owed him a favor. He wasn't being kind to her out of the goodness of his heart.
Hadn't her cousins taught her that men couldn't be trusted?
But even as these thoughts swirled through her mind, a flare of disappointment rose up. She was sorry that Pieter had gone.
She wanted to tell him that she'd aced the interview. She'd passed by two other competitors—both of whom had given her scathing once-overs before turning up their noses at her—on her way into the small room set aside for the interview. She'd seen their designer knee-length denim skirts, seen that their shirts were silk or satin or something much more expensive than hers, but she'd done what Pieter had suggested and pretended they didn't exist.
The judge, an older woman who looked like she'd probably seen pageant days herself, was kind and had seemed receptive to all of McKenna's answers. They talked for nearly an hour, and it had almost been like chatting with a real friend.
So much of McKenna's confidence had been a result of Pieter's parting words.
He believed in her.
He didn't even know her, but he believed she could do it.
She knew he was hiding something, knew that some of his motives might not be pure.
But she was drawn to him anyway.
She slipped into the horse trailer, stowed her hat and switched her boots for the sneakers she'd left there. Maximus was settled in the rented stall she'd reserved for him in the stock barn nearby. She'd checked on him on her way out here and found him sleeping peacefully.
She didn't like leaving him alone in an unfamiliar place with different sights and sounds than he'd have at home, but she also couldn't stand leaving him out in the trailer all night, small as it was. She needed him at his best tomorrow.
And what about herself?
She'd found the women's locker room, which did have a shower, so at least she'd present herself clean tomorrow.
If it hadn't died, she could've slept in her truck. It wouldn't have been the most comfortable of places, but…now it looked like it was the trailer floor. And the door didn't lock from the inside, which meant she was unprotected.
Not for the first time did she question if all this was worth it. At least living with her aunt and uncle, she had the security of a roof above her head, if not much else. Maybe she was dreaming too big, thinking she could be an attorney, could really help people.
She remembered those dark moments when she'd realized her father was never coming home. She didn't want that for another little girl. If this didn't work, she'd find another way to fund her education. But for now, she was stuck here.
There was nothing for it. She would have to make the best of it and pray that any dark circles that appeared on her skin wouldn't be too harsh tomorrow. She was purposely avoiding thinking about where she'd spend the night tomorrow. With rain in the forecast, the trailer would be soaked and miserable.
She changed out of the black button shirt, opting for a tank top beneath her sweatshirt—an oversized, beat up old thing that she loved—and curled up in a ball at the front end of the trailer. If no one knew she was in here, she’d be safe. Right?
But then a pair of headlights swept over her with a flash through the trailer slats. She shielded her head with her elbow, working to be as still and small as possible. Probably whoever that was would think she was some tack and wouldn't even look in the trailer.
The headlights cut off, but the truck remained idling.
Her heart sped. Even more so at the sound of a door slamming shut and boots crunching in gravel.
"McKenna?"
That was Pieter's voice. She didn't think she moved, but maybe she'd flinched when he'd said her name.
There was a creak of metal, then a flash of a light in her face. She winced and hid behind her elbow again, but he adjusted the light—his phone. He must be using a flashlight app.
“What are you doing in there?"
There was no use trying to hide now, so she stood and made her way out of the trailer. Her mind scrambled for some way to convince him to go on his merry way.
He took her elbow to help her as she stepped onto the pavement.
"I came back to see if you needed a ride to your hotel. What the heck are you doing curled up in the back of your trailer?"
She didn't have to answer for him to get it, because even in the low glare from the light post several cars away, she saw his eyes go dark.
But she didn't understand what he was angry about. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he clamped her elbow. When he spoke, his accent seemed to thicken.
"Please tell me you weren't going to try and sleep in your unlocked trailer in the middle of this fairgrounds."
She heard echoes of her cousins’ cruelty. Stupid. Brainless. You'll never amount to anything.
She jerked her chin up. "I'm an adult. I can stay here if I like."
"You're an adult. Then perhaps you should start acting like one."
His lips curled into a snarl, and she tried to wrench her arm away from his grip, but he held her too tightly.
"Let—" Go.
Before she could get the word out, his lips descended on hers with crushing intensity.
Pieter hadn't meant to kiss her.
He hadn't meant to let his emotions get the better of him. When was the last time that had happened? When he was thirteen and had gotten into a shouting match with Mother?
But now that he'd kissed McKenna, he found he couldn't stop with just one.
He'd meant the first kiss, not as a punishment, but an expression of the anger and the paralyzing fear he'd felt when he'd seen her and realized what she was doing, or trying to do.
But she’d frozen beneath his touch, both his lips and his hand at her elbow, and instead of continuing the punishing kiss, he softened his lips and pulled away slightly. Just far enough to brush butterfly-light kisses against the s
hadows of her eyelashes, one across her cheek before he returned to her lips.
This time, he started gently, teasing her lips until she responded, until she opened to him.
He used the hand at her elbow to draw her closer, let his opposite hand come up to cup the nape of her neck.
He didn't know why he found her so tempting. She was too young for him, he was too jaded for her.
But he couldn't stop what was blossoming between them. A big part of him didn't want to.
Then he pulled back slightly, intending to brush his fingers over the softness of her cheek before diving in to her addicting lips again.
But the few inches of distance gave him enough room to see the burning hurt and tears pooling in her eyes.
She pulled away from his hold. This time he let her go, but not without his stomach pitching as if he'd skydived off a skyscraper.
She turned and crossed her arms over her middle. As if to protect herself.
From him.
What had he done?
"Come back to my hotel room with me," he said. His voice emerged rougher than he'd intended. He'd booked the last room at the nearest hotel. The desk clerk had been talkative and told him twice how lucky he was.
McKenna shook her head almost violently. He saw her throat move as she swallowed.
Passion and confusion might be clouding his judgment, but he couldn't bear to see the hurt. He’d certainly not meant to put it there.
He closed his eyes against thoughts of her vulnerable, lying in that unguarded trailer all night. Alone. Defenseless. She was small, slight. Easy prey for someone with evil intentions. He couldn't stand it.
"I'm calling in my boon," he said before he'd really thought it through.
Her eyes flashed and her chin came up. "I already said I wouldn't sleep with you."
"I'll sleep on the floor." This time his voice was tinged with desperation. Something he'd never wanted to feel again. "Or in my truck. Just don't stay out here alone. Please."
He should've known that it would be the please that did it, that got her to look at him again. She nodded slightly, quickly turning her face away again, though, before he could do more than see the tears still sparkling, unshed, in her eyes.
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