by G. K. Brady
“I hope not, but there’s always a chance he hasn’t learned his lesson. Plus, I think she still has the power to yank his chain. Of course, if he were seeing someone else …” There was that gleam in Sonoma’s eyes again.
“You can’t possibly mean me,” Ellie blurted.
Sonoma tucked her pouch of goodies under her arm, cracked the door open, and pivoted. “Why not? You’re flash and substance.” Then she slipped into the hall. “See you downstairs.”
Ellie stuck her head out and sang after her. “Thank you!” She swiveled her head to Dave’s door, relieved it was closed.
Stomach churning, she retreated into her room, where she expelled a wine-laden breath. Sonoma had just been trying to boost her ego. It was in her hairdresser nature. Beyond that, Ellie couldn’t decide which of Sonoma’s comments had unsettled her more. And she didn’t want to consider why any of them had bugged her in the first place, so she shoved them to a back corner of her brain.
He’s not interested. Just get over yourself.
As she dabbed perfume behind her ears and between her breasts, she pondered the night ahead. Were the fluttery sensations in her tummy from beating butterfly wings? The wine? Or were they snails coiling tighter and tighter? And what was making her more nervous? Dancing with Dave, or dancing with Dave?
She eyed the rest of her wine and downed it. Liquid courage. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her cowboy boots. One last smoothing of her hair and dress, one last glimpse in the mirror that had her waving herself off, and she took a deep breath and sailed out her door before she could change her mind.
The burble of people grew louder the closer she came to the rail overlooking the great room below. It was filled with a sea of cowboy hats and women in brightly colored outfits. Most held a drink of some kind, and she recognized none of them. Why didn’t I wait for Sonoma? A tentative step on the landing, then down to the first step. A few sets of eyes turned her way, and she suddenly felt like that girl sweeping into the ball after everyone else has arrived. The grand entrance. Not at all what she’d intended. Maybe if she ran back to her room on the pretext of—
Below, a cowboy doffed his hat and gave her a white-toothed smile accented by a dimple. Ooh, he was cute. Beside him, a bigger, broader guy dressed in a western shirt looked up and winked. Oh hell! Nothing like being on display. But hey, it’s pretty good for the old ego. The first cowboy placed his hat over his heart, cocked his head, and kept his eyes trained on her. She couldn’t turn and run now, so she took another step down. A warm, rough hand circling her upper arm possessively startled her.
“Sonoma didn’t lie about that dress,” Dave whispered beside her, his warm breath washing over her ear and down her neck. Goose bumps she prayed he couldn’t feel erupted beneath his fingers.
She craned her neck and looked up. His eyes were focused somewhere below, and he sported a spectacular scowl totally at odds with the warm notes of his voice. Nonetheless, breath stalled in her chest because Lordy! He was all hot man and hard muscle decked out in a fitted black western shirt embroidered in silver on the shoulders and cuffs. On top of his head perched a black felt cowboy hat adorned with a small silver buckle on one side. Completing the outfit were black leather cowboy boots and a pair of low-riding jeans held up by a simple western belt.
Ellie had never been into cowboys, but it occurred to her she should reconsider because this tower of male perfection beside her was positively delectable. Bite-worthy.
She’d been so shamelessly ogling him that she didn’t notice his stare had shifted to her. The scowl was gone, but his eyes held an unmistakable intensity as they blatantly blazed a trail up and down her body. Next came an expression she could only label as ravenous. Heat rose from her chest, up her neck, threatening to set fire to her cheeks.
Suddenly, the hungry look vanished, masked by a cough and a polite half-smile. “You look really nice,” he said.
Oh man, so did he. Dancing was just about to become more difficult.
Keeping hold of her arm, he began walking her down the stairs. When she looked to where the cute cowboy and his buddy had been standing, they were nowhere in sight.
Chapter 21
Courtesy Turn
Dancing was going to be damn hard if he had to deal with a boner all night. Jesuuuuus! Dave had a firm grip of Ellie’s arm—yeah, that’s right, assholes, she’s with me—making it awkward to gawk at her more than he already had. Which was a good thing.
He squelched an inner groan. Where had this girl been all his life, and why did he have to crash into her to meet her?
Questions for another time because right now they were heading into the barn to check out the display of boxed dinners, and he needed to focus on keeping distance between her and the two pervs who’d been eye-fucking her. And if he could help it, keeping them far away from her dinner because damn it, it was his. The only other guy he’d let buy it was Finn, and that was only on the condition Dave bought Sonoma’s.
“Hey, you two,” came Sonoma’s cheerful voice from behind them. She was decked out in bright green, and beside her, Finn looked a little uptight in his starchy white western shirt with sharp creases from its packaged fold lines.
While the girls oohed and aahed over their outfits, Finn cooed in a high singsong, “Oh, Dave, I just lurve your hat. Can I borrow it sometime?”
Dave pinched Finn’s sleeve and falsettoed, “And I just adore your new shirt. Bargain Barn special?” In his straight voice, he added, “Looks like you put it on straight out of the package, man.”
Finn shrugged good-naturedly and gave Dave a pointed look. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t spend all our time pretending to be cowboys.”
“Hey,” Dave protested, “I already had these. Just needed to liberate them from the mothballs.” Yeah, not really. The shirt and hat were new, but he wasn’t about to fess up to anyone.
Sonoma tilted her head toward the stage. “Looks like Uncle Stan’s running the auction.”
Dave glanced over, and, sure enough, his aunt was helping his uncle get ready on stage. Yes! Dave would use that family connection to his unfair advantage if he had to. Whatever it took.
“Oh, there they are!” Ellie squealed beside him and pointed at her boxed dinner along with, he presumed, Sonoma’s. A few eyes swung Ellie’s way, including the ones belonging to the dimpled, pretty-boy cowboy Dave wanted to use as a punching bag.
So much for keeping her dinner on the down-low.
The four of them ambled toward the boxes, neatly numbered and nestled among other containers, and Dave glanced around himself like a super-secret boxed-supper spy. No one seemed to be watching them.
“Oh, Sonoma, yours is so pretty.” Ellie’s wistful tone tugged a protective chord inside him. The girls inspected Sonoma’s splashy fluorescent-pink-and-black box bedecked in bows and shiny studs. Ellie let out a laugh. “Can I borrow one of your bows? My box is waaaaay too plain.”
“It’s perfect the way it is,” Dave scoffed, hopeful its very plainness meant no one else would notice it.
“Yeah?” Ellie looked up at Dave, a bright smile curving her lips and lighting her eyes. He sucked in a breath before he knew what he was doing, and those big blue eyes got even bigger. “Is everything okay? Did you forget something?” Her hand flew nervously to her hair. “Or maybe it’s me? Do I look okay?”
Shit! Does she think there’s something wrong with the way she looks? Not a chance. “You look more than okay. In fact, you look so okay I’m wondering how many guys I’m going to have to fight off.”
Behind Ellie, Sonoma threw him an epic eye-roll and a sarcastic, silent hand clap. He ignored her, focusing instead on the pretty blush pinking Ellie’s cheeks that made him want to kiss them. God, he wished he was smoother with his words. If he were, he’d tell her just what seeing her in that pretty, flowery dress and those smoking-hot red boots did to him. Hell, if he were to slide from smooth to crude—and crude was much closer to the side of the fence he was curr
ently standing on—he’d just put her hand on his crotch so she could tell for herself. Thank fuck Uncle Stan’s voice boomed over the speakers and saved him from making an even bigger dumbass of himself.
“We have some attractive dinner boxes to auction off tonight, but the real prize is the lovely woman who goes with each one, so prepare to dig deep, gentlemen!” A round of applause, and then he got down to it with the bang of his gavel. He called out box number one, a fancy little number that Aunt Viv brought on stage to show off to prospective bidders. And so the competition began.
About halfway through, the pretty cowboy and his buddy had yet to bid on a box, but now as Sonoma’s box came up for its turn, both men seemed to take interest. Oblivious, she exchanged a look with Finn, and the bidding started. After a few moments of back-and-forth between Finn and Pretty Cowboy’s buddy, Dave leaned in to Finn’s ear. “I’ll cover you if you need—”
“I got this,” Finn assured him, “but thanks, man.”
Okay. So maybe Finn was a righteous dude after all. Dave would cut him some slack, especially after the guy shelled out a whopping grand for Sonoma’s dinner. And the look on her face when he did it? Priceless.
Several boxes later, Ellie’s brown one made it on stage. Aunt Viv’s hand gestures were as animated as Dave had seen them. Was she doing a hard sell, compensating for what she perceived as lack of glitz? Beside him, he was pretty sure Ellie flinched. He definitely heard the sharp breath she drew in.
“And here we have this box that’s beautiful in its simplicity,” Uncle Stan crooned into the microphone. “You know what they say about plain brown wrappers. They hide the most gorgeous secrets.” He waggled his eyebrows and got laughs from the crowd. “What am I bid?”
Surprisingly—and disappointingly—a number of hands went up, including those belonging to Cowboy Pretty and his friend. They elbowed each other and grinned. WTF? Didn’t take long for the price to climb into the mid-hundreds. Beside Dave, Ellie bounced on her heels, her head on a swivel, a happy little smile on her face. Damn! He wasn’t the one putting it there. Worse, Pretty Boy might have been the responsible party. Dave had glimpsed the douchenugget stealing glances at her, winking at her once when he’d caught her eye. The guy was pissing Dave off—and apparently messing with his head because before Dave had had a chance to put his hand up, the damn dinner was pushing a thousand.
Uncle Stan practically cackled with glee. “That’s it! Keep up the bidding, boys. I think I know which girl goes with this box, and you will not be disappointed. Remember, not only do you get the dinner and the pretty girl, but it’s for a good cause!”
Uncle Stan, so not helping.
Pretty Cowboy cut Dave a look and smirked like the entitled rich kid Dave was pretty sure he was. Oh hell no! He leaned down to Ellie’s ear, and her fragrance invaded his senses and made him more determined than he already was. “I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay here with Finn and Sonoma?”
“Yes,” she giggled back. “Isn’t this great?”
No, it really isn’t. But I’m about to change that.
He strode—no, strutted like a damn rooster—up to the stage and pulled a check from his wallet, which he waved at his uncle. “I have an insurance check here that I’ve been instructed to use for my favorite charity. In exchange for that dinner”—he pointed at Ellie’s brown box—“I’ll sign it over to Heifer International.”
Aunt Viv bent down and plucked the check from his fingers, her eyes going saucer-wide. She flapped it at Stan. “It’s over five thousand dollars!” she gasped.
“And,” Dave bellowed, spinning slowly until he locked on Pretty Boy with his best don’t-fuck-with-me glare, “I’m personally tripling that amount.” Pretty Boy’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and he gave Dave the immense satisfaction of a fuming scowl. Dave turned his glower back to Stan, who swiftly brought the gavel down with a “Sold!”
When the applause died down, Stan shook his head, grinned, and pointed the gavel at Dave. “Viv, give the box to the crazy cowboy right there.”
Dave winked at her as she handed it over. “Thanks, Aunt Viv,” he said in a low voice no one else could hear.
She beamed back at him. “Have fun.”
He strode back to Ellie, who stood frozen in the spot where he’d left her. Sonoma hugged his arm, Finn clapped him on the back, but Ellie just looked dazed. Box in one hand, he pointed at it with the other. “This yours?”
A dazzling smile broke out on her face. “You know it is! And what a way to use the insurance check.” God, the way she was looking at him made him feel like fucking Superman despite the silly cowboy clothes.
“So you approve?”
She wagged her head from side to side, her glossy curls moving with her. “A little over the top, but yes, I approve.”
“Well, good, because I wanted to eat with the prettiest girl here. Let’s go.”
This time the smile Sonoma gave him was genuine and broadcast her thumbs-up, which he shouldn’t have needed, but it sure felt good to have nonetheless.
He snagged a bottle of wine from a bartender’s station, and Finn grabbed glasses. The four of them meandered to an out-of-the-way flagstone patio beside an outdoor fireplace, and Dave made a big show of opening Ellie’s boxed dinner.
“Oh wow,” he enthused. “Chicken satay. And grilled corn salsa. Exactly what I was hoping for.”
She smacked his arm playfully. He could get used to this.
The bars were excellent, and the rest of the meal was decent—he thought of a few things he’d do differently had he prepared it himself—but he really didn’t care. It wasn’t about the food. All he wanted was to see the smile on Ellie’s face every time he looked at her and know he’d put it there. That was more than worth the price tag.
They polished off their meals and the wine as music began playing in the barn. He stood, pulling Ellie up with him. Her happy face dissolved into sheer panic. “I don’t think I’ve had enough to drink yet,” she whispered harshly.
He stifled a laugh. “Then let’s get you some more to drink.” He could use a few stiff belts himself. “But honestly? There’s nothing to worry about. Look, Stan asked Sonoma and me to dance with a few folks in the beginning to get everyone warmed up. You and Finn can watch from the side. You’ll see the steps are a piece of cake.” A thought struck him. “Unless you really don’t want to dance, and then we’ll find something else to do.” A clip of him kissing her behind a haystack zoomed through his mind, and he quickly added, “Like go for a hayride.” With a boatload of people so I don’t do anything stupid.
Another stop at the bartender’s, where Ellie got a vodka and tonic this time—because it was refreshing, she said—and he reluctantly left her behind with Finn while he beelined for an older lady clapping on the sidelines. She had a pleasant look about her, like his mom or Aunt Viv. She looks like she wants to dance. A quick look around for the pretty cowboy, and he relaxed and led the giggling lady onto the dance floor. From the stage, Uncle Stan gave him an approving nod. Yep, Dave was racking up all kinds of points tonight.
He and Sonoma completed two reels with different people, the rhythm and steps coming as though they’d done this just last week. He kept his eye on Ellie, who waved and smiled from the sidelines. At least she didn’t look like a rabbit ready to bolt anymore. When the dance floor filled and their duties were over, he sent Sonoma toward Finn and Ellie, then detoured to the bar.
While he waited for their drinks, a hand clapped his shoulder, and he spun to see Pretty Cowboy’s buddy grinning at him. The guy stuck his hand out. “You’re the Grim Reaper! I thought there was something familiar about you. At first, I didn’t recognize you without—”
“The beard and the hair,” Dave finished for him dryly.
“Yeah, plus you’re sporting a full set of teeth.” The guy put his hands up as if surrendering. “Which I totally get. I mean, there’s hockey, and then there’s social time with your girl. And speaking of your girl, I wanted to apologize
on behalf of my friend. I only bid because he wanted to drive the price up to where no one else would bid.” Then the guy chortled. “Man, he never saw you coming! You sure pissed him off with your stunt.”
Yeah, well, your buddy pissed me off. “Maybe he shouldn’t try to horn in on another man’s girl. Life will be much less disappointing—and safer—for him that way, if you catch my drift.”
“Totally. I think he’s off somewhere licking his wounds, but if I find him, I’ll be sure he steers clear of your girl if he wants to see tomorrow.”
Not my girl, but he doesn’t need to know that. The guy seemed about to ask for an autograph or a selfie or something fan-related, so Dave grabbed up the drinks as soon as the bartender slid them over. He gave Cowboy’s friend a grim nod. “You do that.” Sometimes life was a little easier when people believed you were badass.
Chapter 22
Do Not Watch His Hips
"Hey, party girl, how you holding up?” Finn grinned down at Ellie as they watched the dancing from where they stood beside hay bales surrounding the dance floor. Her boots were tapping, and her body was rocking in time with the music. But her real focus was on Dave promenading a perpetually smiling fifty-ish lady on the hay-strewn barn floor. On a raised platform, Stan half sang, half called, accompanied by Viv on drums and two guys on the fiddle and bass. Ellie tried not to think about the way Dave’s hips moved. She tried to lock out the wicked thoughts Beth “Square Dance Store” Not-Chapman had planted in her brain. Sadly, it wasn’t working, and soon she’d have to take a check-for-drool break.
God, she was still tingling from his forceful purchase of her dinner box. Lordy, the way he’d taken command of the entire place had left her breathless! All because he wanted her supper, and he’d put a gob of money smack where his mouth was. It was enough to make a girl’s head spin right off her neck. My hero, she thought sappily to herself. Not to mention how during dinner he’d praised her less-than-stellar “eclectic” meal and told her the real reason he’d bought her the clothes was because he wanted to show off the “prettiest girl here.” Prettiest girl here? Hardly. In the past, a comment like that would have made her eyes roll or caused her to break out in a skeptical smirk before running away. But his compliments didn’t sound like lines. Instead, ribbons of warmth had woven themselves around her heart and had yet to loosen their hold. He was different, this Grim Reaper. All male and not shy about owning it. No apologies. Knowing what he wanted and going after it. A man of action. She found herself intoxicated by his blend of raw power and tenderness, irretrievably drawn to him like she’d never been drawn to anyone before. And the way he moved his hips had her thinking all kinds of naughty things she shouldn’t be thinking. Yeah, I bet he owns it in the bedroom too.
