“Did you say something?”
Holding Didi’s hand—for appearance’s sake, definitely not because he liked how hers fit in his—Caleb led the way to the massive red barn where the Summer Swing was . . . well, in full swing. He hated himself for the pun, but having Didi with him changed the air surrounding them. She lightened his mood significantly after a stressful week at the firm. His father had been on a tear because of an important case. Dare Caleb say he had looked forward to seeing her again? A part of him wished he could have been there when Nathan brought the art supplies. But damn his cousin for even suggesting that he should pose for her naked. Just like him to plant that seed in Didi’s head to get him back for making her mad. It had become obvious pretty fast that Nathan was on her side, after he declared her his personal Barbie. The traitor.
And he had met her mother. What must that have been like?
He had come to her house with the specific purpose of picking her up and giving her a piece of his mind for not returning his texts. But as soon as she had opened the door in her painting overalls and dry paintbrushes sticking out of a messy bun, his annoyance deflated. A buoyant kind of happiness had taken its place. He could barely contain himself when she allowed him into her home. Small as it was, the space was warm and lived in, with its comfortable couch, picture frames, and fireplace. And her paintings . . . The vibrant colors went with her vibrant attitude.
On the ride over she had asked him question after question about the event, and he had answered them to the best of his abilities, letting her know that each Summer Swing was different depending on who his father hired to plan it. This particular one they were attending had a Western theme. “Hence the boots,” she had said, an impish twinkle in her eyes as she twirled for him after he’d helped her out of the car.
Even from a step behind him, Caleb could sense Didi’s barely contained excitement. She squeezed his hand, and he glanced at her from over his shoulder as they walked down the path leading to the barn’s entrance. Like Nathan had told him, the pink of the dress—or rose as his cousin had called it—set off the paleness of her skin. Her hair, sans paintbrushes, moved as she did, framing a face he had wanted to kiss since she’d come out of her room ready to attend their second event of the summer.
Looking at her was like stepping into a patch of spring sunlight after the harshest winter. Without thinking, he brought the hand he held to his lips and planted a kiss on its back. The move coaxed a gasp out of her. She blushed prettily for him. Just for him.
At the door to the barn, he handed their invitation to a waiting attendant. She nodded them in, not bothering to check the validity of the invite. Didi pulled on his arm, and he slowed his pace and bent down so her mouth came to his ear.
“I knew that face of yours was all the invitation we’d need,” she whispered.
The touch of her breath caused heat to climb his neck. He opened his mouth to reply, but Didi was already pulling him forward. The wide space featured a wooden dance floor at the center, stacks of hay bales for seating and makeshift tables, and a sprawling bar spanning one wall. Cowboys moved among the crowd, balancing wooden trays filled with finger food. For those who wanted heartier selections, several checkered-tablecloth-covered tables featured quite a spread of cornbread, an assortment of barbecues, and a bakery’s worth of pies.
“Who’s that hot piece of cowboy standing with Nathan?” She pointed toward one end of the barn by a stack of hay bales.
A scowl tightened all the muscles in his face as he followed the length of her arm to the direction of her fingertip. Before he could answer, she was already pulling him again. This time toward his cousin.
“Nate, who’s your friend?” she asked, not bothering with hellos. Letting go of Caleb’s hand and leaving him feeling empty, she shifted her weight to her toes when she stopped in front of Preston. “Your eyes remind me of those old Sprite bottles. I found one at a flea market once. I think it’s still lying around somewhere in my room.”
Nathan’s chuckle caught her attention. “Diana Alexander, let me introduce you to Preston Grant. He’s a childhood friend of mine and Caleb’s. Pres, this is Didi.”
“Can I paint you naked?” she asked, unabashed, looking up at him. Nathan’s chuckles became full-blown laughter. She hiked her thumb at Caleb. His scowl deepened. “This one’s too shy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Didi,” Preston said. He seemed unperturbed by her request. The bastard.