Always enjoying the sound of Sully’s mellow baritone voice as he talked about his love of ranch life, his horses, and running his gun club, a recurring tune that had been playing softly in the back of Charley’s mind once again rushed to the forefront in full melody.
She was head-over-heels in love with Sullivan Custis.
Refocusing on the bathroom mirror now, being in love with Sully crescendoed so loudly in her head, Charley glanced at the closed bathroom door as though he might have heard her thoughts. She was crazy in love with her protector. Her defender. Her hero.
“I love you, Sully,” Charley whispered into the mirror.
“Hey, you,” Sully said from the other side of the door, making Charley jump.
“Hay is for horses!” she squealed and heard Sully laugh.
“Time to show me your costume.”
“Have you got yours on?” she asked through the door.
“Yes.”
Charley gave herself a last look in the mirror. A light brown cap with chin-length ears covered most of her head. She’d sliced a hole in the middle back of the cap and pulled her braid through it. She’d drawn black eyeliner around her eyes, dabbed on extra mascara, and colored the end of her nose coal black. She was zipped into a form-fitting, softly furred light brown, white, and black one-piece costume. She fastened the bejeweled red collar, with the nameBingoon it, around her neck. It delighted her that the collar matched her shiny red lipstick and red leather cowboy boots.
Placing her hand on the doorknob, she said, “Promise not to laugh.”
“I promise.”
Charley opened the door. Sully stood before her, with his large hands on his tapered hips. He wore his black cowboy hat over his thick black hair. A couple days of growth of black beard gave him that rough and rowdy look that was so sexy. A black leather vest fit over a long-sleeved white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of snug blue jeans. A black leather belt, fastened by a big silver buckle boasting his gun store logo, matched his black cowboy boots.
“You look gorgeous, cowboy,” Charley said. “Where’s your costume?”
Sully pulled back the left side of his leather vest to display a silver star. “Wyatt Earp, Deputy US Marshal here to protect the—” he paused to overtly look her up and down, “sexiest beagle puppy west of the Mississippi River.”
Charley did a little curtsy. “Thank you.”
“Gotta tail?” he asked. Charley turned around and wiggled her fanny, making the brown and white tail dance along with her braid. “Hell. Do we have to go to the party? Can’t we stay here, and I’ll strip you outta that costume instead?”
“No.” Charley giggled, twirling to face him. “We told everybody we’d be there.”
“Damn.” Sully groaned. “We’ll say we forgot.” Pulling her to him, his strong arms closed around her as his lips touched hers. His mouth opened, and their tongues played.
Then leaning back, she said, “Don’t try to sidetrack me, Wyatt. We have to go.” Sully grumbled, but let her tug him out of the bedroom. Charley grabbed her purse and the keys to her little red convertible that they’d picked up earlier that day. “Want to take my car?”
“Yes, since you drove it here, I’d like to drive it to Triple C-West and see how it handles,” he said.
“Please do the honors, Marshal Earp,” Charley said and dropped the keys into his hand.
“Okay, but we’re coming back to my house as soon as we can.”
Sully drove them to Triple C Ranch-West, where orange lanterns hung from the pine trees along the driveway. Several cars were already parked near the house. More orange lanterns lit up the pretty, wraparound porch decorated with hanging ferns, white rockers, and carved pumpkins.
As Sully stopped the car, Charley said, “We have to stay for at least an hour.”
“We’ll see,” Sully said with a cocky grin and got out of the car. She did as well and met him as he came around to her side and returned her car keys. She put the keys in her purse and her phone in her pocket, as he said, “Your Mini Cooper handles nicely.”
“Glad you think so,” she said. The insurance company had only been willing to repair, not replace the slashed tires. “Thank you for the new tires, Sully.”
“You’re welcome. I want you to be safe on the highway,” Sully said. “If it rains, snows, or is icy, these country roads can gettreacherous. So be safe and don’t speed.” As they paused in the lights of the porch and driveway, he said, “I think the convertible top looks like new.”
“It looks just like the day I bought it. Thank you for recommending that body shop.”
“My pleasure.” He nodded toward the main road as a hay wagon full of people, pulled by two big horses, turned onto the long drive. “Here come Cash and this week’s dude ranchers.”
