Cowboy Crazy

chapter 15



Sarah spent the day immersed in work, fighting thoughts of Lane with facts and figures. It was well past five when she glanced at her watch and realized she was going to be late. She barely had time to rush home, shower, and slip into a little black dress before the company’s long black Town Car rolled to a halt outside the apartment building.

The stolid, expressionless driver didn’t even blink when Gloria tumbled into the back seat, giggling and kicking up her heels to offer a paparazzi-worthy panty-flash.

“Gloria,” Sarah hissed. “Don’t forget this is a work thing for me.”

“What?” Gloria giggled and fluttered her lashes at the rearview mirror. “I just want to see if I can get a rise out of him.” She giggled again. “You know, a rise?”

Sarah had a sudden vision of herself standing in a line at the unemployment office. “Did you have a drink while you were getting ready or something?”

“Two.” Gloria stuck out her tongue. “Stop being an old schti… schti…” She giggled. “Schtick-in-the-mud.”

Sarah slumped in the seat. She hated being a stick-in-the-mud. She really did. But Gloria was like a peppy little puppy, bright-eyed and stumbling into trouble at every turn. Bringing her to a work function was a disaster in the making.

But it wasn’t like Sarah could snap a leash on her. She’d just have to do damage control as the occasion arose. And she had a feeling there were going to be a lot of occasions arising.

The driver evidently wasn’t one of them, though. His expression was unchanging as he pulled up outside the club, came around to the passenger side, and opened the door. He stayed stoic even when Gloria stumbled into him accidentally-on-purpose.

Was there any way to rescue this situation? Short of shanking Gloria with her nail file and shoving her body into the shrubbery, Sarah couldn’t think of a solution. And the place was so neatly landscaped, there really wasn’t anywhere to hide a body.

“Okay, Gloria, I just have one rule for tonight,” she said as the Town Car drove away.

Gloria smiled at her, swaying on her feet. “Jus’ one?”

“Well, there were two, but the first one was ‘no drinking before dinner.’”

“Too late!” Gloria did a little soft-shoe in the loose gravel of the parking lot, ending with a jazz-hands flourish.

“Yeah, I know,” Sarah said. “So there’s just one rule left, and you’d better follow it or I won’t let you go to dinner with my friends anymore.”

“Okay.” Gloria seemed to sober instantly and stood at attention.

Sarah stifled a smile and pointed a stern finger at her roommate, whose curls were still bouncing from her impromptu tap performance.

“Eric is off-limits, okay? He is my boss, and my paycheck depends on him. You mess around with him, I’m liable to lose my job and then you’ll lose the rent money.” She quirked a little smile to soften the negativity. “Capiche?”

Gloria made a cross over her heart. “Capiche.”

Stepping inside the club, they paused to absorb the softly lit, walnut-paneled splendor of the Petroleum Club. Even Gloria was hushed by the dignified brass sconces, the elaborate paneled woodwork, and the elegantly carved doorway. Sarah breathed in the scent of the world she’d worked so hard to earn, a sweet-smelling combination of candlelight, furniture polish, and money.

Eric was seated at a long table near the back of the restaurant along with a half-dozen other men, enveloped in the faint musical sounds of clinking china, clanking silverware, and low conversation. Levering himself out of the chair, he pulled out the one beside him while two of his friends stumbled over themselves to help Gloria.

“You look terrific,” he said as he pushed Sarah’s chair in. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I’m so glad we found a Vassar girl like you to tell us how to class things up.”

She smiled, remembering all the hot summer afternoons she’d spent on the back step of her mother’s trailer, daydreaming while she watched her little sister frolic in her plastic Walmart wading pool. She remembered feeling her polyester T-shirt sticking to her back and wishing it was silk, wishing she were rich, wishing she was anywhere but in Two Shot.

That was the one thing she’d succeeded at in Two Shot: leaving. She’d failed miserably at everything else—holding her family together, holding onto Roy’s legacy, making his life count for something. All her success was on the surface.

But she couldn’t think about that now. She needed to concentrate on making sure Gloria behaved herself.

“And you.” Eric turned to Gloria. “You look amazing.”

Gloria giggled and shook her shoulders, making her breasts bobble. She was always bobbling and bubbling, putting on a show. It seemed to be an instinctive response. Apparently, she believed in the survival of the sexiest.

She’d seated herself between two of Eric’s golf buddies. One, a youngish guy who almost rivaled Eric for good looks, was being politely attentive while she told a story with a lot of bouncing around in her seat to punctuate the good parts. The silver-haired but fit-looking guy in a plaid sport jacket on her right wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was trying to peer down her dress.

Sarah tried to remain poised, but she was still prepared to pounce if Gloria started in on any cringe-worthy anecdotes. Eric, oblivious to her nerves, poured her and Gloria each a generous glass of Burgundy, then topped off his own and lifted it in a toast.

“To the West and all its riches,” he said. “Including my two lovely dates.”

The other men lifted their glasses. The plaid-jacketed man managed to get through the entire toasting and drinking process without raising his gaze from Gloria’s breasts. Evidently he wanted two dates too. Sarah really couldn’t blame him. Gloria’s rather generous endowment was enhanced, shaped, and lifted by her dress to the point where she might as well have presented it on a platter. Sarah frowned and took another sip of wine, then another. Then another.

“Rough day, Sarah?” Gloria cast a lash-fluttering look toward Eric, who raised his glass in flirtatious appreciation.

“No, it was fine,” Sarah said. “Just the usual meetings and stuff. Fun, actually. Why? Do I look tired?”

“No, you look terrific. But you just drank an entire glass of wine in three sips, and you didn’t even read the label first. That’s not like you.”

Sarah pushed her wine glass away. Gloria was right—she was going too fast. She’d never learn about wine if she chugged it like 7-Up.

“So how did your date go last night?” Gloria turned to the plaid-jacketed man. “Sarah had a date with Lane Carrigan.”

The man jerked upright as if he’d been caught ogling her breasts, which, in fact, he had.

“Urp?”

Sarah figured he hadn’t heard Gloria’s announcement, but the other men at the table turned her way, obviously curious.

“It wasn’t a date,” she said.

Gloria slapped Plaid Jacket Man playfully, apparently as a stand-in for Sarah. “Shut up. It was so.” She leaned across the table to address Eric and the silver-haired man lapsed back into his breast-induced reverie. “It’s, like, impossible to fix her up, you know?” She turned to Eric. “I mean, what more could you do? Your brother is hot, hot, hot.” Fanning herself theatrically, Gloria simpered as he topped off her glass. “So are you, but she said I shouldn’t say so.” She shrugged, which made Mr. Plaid Jacket nearly fall out of his chair. “So what’s Lane like, Sarah?”

“He was—fine.”

“Mighty fine,” Gloria said with a Groucho-style waggle of her eyebrows.

“It really wasn’t a date, though.” Sarah wasn’t about to trash her boss’s brother in front of this crowd, but thinking about the night before made her want to down the glass in one gulp, like a cowboy downing a shot of whiskey in a Wild West movie. “And he got bucked off his bull, so we spent most of the night at the medical tent.”

Gloria simpered and flung a sultry glance across the table at a middle-aged guy wearing a bolo tie. “I’d like to spend a night in a tent with a cowboy, I can tell you that. I bet they’re really good at—you know.” To Sarah’s horror, she raised one arm and pulsed her hips like a bronc rider. “Yee-ha!”

A faint “yee-ha, baby!” echoed from the corner. Sarah was pretty sure it came from a young guy in a pin-striped suit who looked like he was probably scared of horses. He’d probably be scared of Gloria too, if he knew her. He certainly should be.

But Eric wasn’t. The Carrigan eyes were fixed on Gloria like rifle sights.

“Well, you ought to know about all that stuff,” Gloria said to Sarah. “You rode in the rodeo yourself, didn’t you?”

Sarah clamped her lips tight and gave Gloria a quick head shake, but the girl was on a roll.

“You’d never guess it, but Sarah grew up dirt poor!” She announced it as if it was something to be proud of. “And now here she is, a corporate big shot, getting me invitations to the Petronia—Petrolia—Petrolinum Club.” She giggled.

“Really? You grew up poor?” Eric turned to Sarah, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

She waved a hand carelessly, hoping he couldn’t see it was shaking. “That’s kind of an exaggeration.”

“Did you two grow up together?” he asked.

“Oh, no way. Sarah lived in a trailer,” Gloria crowed. “My mom didn’t have squat, but it was never that bad.”

“Really,” Eric said.

“Really.” Gloria was off and running on her own childhood now, and Sarah started to relax as she began talking about the trials of single motherhood and how they’d made her mom’s eyes bag and caused her breasts to sag before she turned fifty.

“But Sarah knows all about that single mom stuff,” she said. She was referring to Kelsey, but judging from how startled Eric looked, he probably thought Sarah herself had a child named Cosette hidden in some back alley with a cruel hotelier.

“My sister,” she said quickly. “She separated from her husband, and she has a little girl.”

The good-looking man to Gloria’s left seemed to sense her discomfort. Leaning across the table, he shot her a sympathetic smile. “So Lane got bucked off? Was he hurt much?”

“Not too bad.” Sarah flashed him a grateful smile. “He’s fine.”

“How fine?” Gloria made the question as suggestive as possible, lowering her voice into a sultry purr and fluttering her lashes.

“Fine enough to be his typical cowboy self,” Sarah said, trying for a light tone.

“Oh, you would know about cowboys,” Gloria said. “Being a cowgirl and all.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes and gave Gloria a hard stare, but her roommate chattered on, oblivious.

“But he’s probably not into art and wine and all that crap.” Gloria waved at the elegant tabletop dismissively. “I guess that’s why you came home alone.” She simpered and flashed Eric a cute little kitten smile. “I think you chose the wrong brother.” She set her glass down on the table with an audible thunk. Evidently the tabletop was higher than she’d thought. Eric flagged down a waiter and ordered another bottle while Sarah sipped ice water and stared into space, hoping no one would notice she was struggling to figure out damage control strategies to counter Gloria’s revelations.

She idly fingered the running-horse necklace, which she’d slipped inside the modest neckline of her dress. She was wondering how things could possibly get any worse when a ruckus near the door upped the club’s noise level. The men at the table swiveled their heads to stare at the doorway, which framed the impressive figure of none other than Lane Carrigan.

He looked like a bull in a china shop—a rodeo bull, far too big and brutal for his delicate surroundings. Dressed in full formal cowboy regalia, he was holding his hat to his chest. As he strode toward them, his boots thudding on the hardwood floors, he reminded her of the hero of an old-time Western. Shane, striding in to clean up the town. The Outlaw Josey Wales, stopping trouble with his trademark glare.

Sarah ducked her head and took another quick sip of her water, glancing over at Eric. Her heart sank at the self-satisfied smirk on his face. He’d set her up, dammit. She’d told him his brother was hopeless, but apparently he wasn’t giving up on the idea she could change the man’s firmly made-up mind about drilling on the ranch.

She ducked her head, but melting into the shadows was not an option. Gloria was practically jumping out of her seat, leaning across the table and waving frantically at Lane, and her big eyes and bigger smile drew every eye in the room that wasn’t already fixed on the cowboy.

“Lane!” She leaned farther forward, offering the entire room a generous glimpse of cleavage and almost knocking over the bottle.

Lane gave her a cool stare, then smiled as he recognized Sarah.

“There you are, babe,” he said.

Gloria arched her eyebrows and slid her gaze toward Sarah. “Babe?” She rolled her gaze to the ceiling and made a dramatic swooning gesture, her arm flailing overhead. The plaid jacketed man made full use of the opportunity.

Lane strode toward them, his eyes fixed on Sarah, and the room went quiet as a Hollywood main street at high noon.

Sarah tensed and reminded herself that she’d gone too far with him once. Twice, really, if you counted that kiss in the office—and how could you not count that kiss?

But it was starting to feel like dating the boss’s brother was a job requirement. Eric was sitting with one arm flung carelessly over the back of his chair, watching her with an annoying, smug expression. She was starting to understand why Lane didn’t get along with him. Eric was a schemer and a plotter. She had to admit that whatever his other flaws, Lane was honest and direct. It made her wonder why he was making such an effort to pursue her. He knew she was riding high on of a pack of lies, fooling everyone into believing she was something she wasn’t.

She felt everyone’s eyes on her face as Lane stopped at their table, shoved his thumbs in his belt loops, and grinned. He’d been just one more cowboy at the rodeo—maybe the biggest and best, but still in his element. Here he stood out like a wolf in a dog kennel, filling up the room not just with his height and bulk, but with his masculine confidence and the intensity of his stare.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t have time to change. Made the short round today.” He grinned. “The better you ride, the harder you work.”

He assessed the room with narrowed eyes like he was thinking about buying the place—or like he already owned it. Pulling out the empty chair beside Sarah, he lowered himself into it and turned toward her, his arm resting on the table. She felt like she was already in his embrace.

Not that she was going to end up there again. Nope, never again. She was the responsible sister. The responsible roommate.

He leaned toward her and she caught the scent of aftershave, a hint of cinnamon blended with leather and wood smoke. He hadn’t been wearing that last night. All this “I didn’t have time to change” stuff was a load of bull. He’d wanted to make an entrance—and it was working. Every eye in the place was on him—the women covetous, the men envious.

“How are you, princess?”

Sarah bristled. “Don’t call me that.”

She reminded herself that she didn’t like rodeo cowboys. Didn’t like them at all.

You liked the way he kissed you, though. You liked the way he…

She shut down that line of thinking as he gave her a lopsided grin that made him look surprisingly boyish despite the breadth of his shoulders.

“I thought maybe you’d give me a second chance.”

“That’s assuming you ever had a first chance,” she quipped.

The men at the table guffawed, but Lane seemed unaffected by what she’d thought was a killer zinger. He scanned the room and its business-suited clientele with obvious scorn, looking rough, battered, and one hundred percent cowboy.

Being responsible sucked.

She was grateful when the waiter interrupted, bringing course after course of beautifully presented, perfectly cooked food. The conversation started up again around them, and Lane’s white teeth flashed as he good-naturedly answered question after question about rodeo from Eric’s friends. Sarah did her best to shrink into the shadows, concentrating on her food so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

Gradually, the questions slowed and finally ceased as one man after another got up to leave. Lane scooted his chair back a bit, clearly looking to engage Sarah in conversation. They listened to each other breathing for a while. Obviously Eric had invited her here to persuade Lane to do the drilling. And he wanted her to use every possible means to do the persuading.

She had a job to do, and that job didn’t just matter to her. It mattered to Kelsey and Katie, too. She took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

“You’re right,” he said. “We do.”