Vanessa laughed. “Of course not. You’ve more than done your duty as my Miss Bronco coach. Go have some fun. I remember those bonfires. Best time ever.”
Charity grabbed Vanessa in a hug, then took her by the shoulders. “Okay, tomorrow’s the big barbecue. You need to be there by two. I’ll be over at one with extra hats. We can double-check your makeup and wardrobe and I’ll answer any last-minute questions you might have. And then we’ll ride to the park together.”
Vanessa suggested, “I think I can manage on my own if you just want to—”
“Nope.” Charity put up a hand to punctuate the word. She brought that hand to her chest. “I’m there. You can count on me.”
Vanessa grabbed her in a final hug, and then Charity headed off down the row behind her friends.
“Ready, then?” Jameson asked. Vanessa wore a look he couldn’t quite read. Did she plan to insist on hitching a ride with someone else—or maybe calling an Uber? The Uber would take a while. Uber drivers in Bronco were thin on the ground.
Not that it mattered. “We’ve already been through this. You’re riding with me.” Was that too damn caveman? He softened the command with, “Please?”
The smile she gave him then had him almost believing he might finally be getting somewhere with her. “I was just thinking about how smoothly you defused the situation with those boys. I should be more appreciative. Thank you for doing that.” She said it softly, with what sounded like real admiration.
He tipped his hat to her. “It was my pleasure.” He wanted to try his luck, take her hand.
But no. They should talk first. He needed her agreement to change the rules she’d laid down on The Night That Really Did Happen, no matter how hard she tried to pretend it hadn’t.
“After you.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him to the aisle.
It was a scramble, getting out of the parking lot, with everybody leaving the arena at once. They got in line with all the other vehicles.
Once they were out of the lot, she took off her hat and turned to set it on the back seat with the other ones Charity had brought for her to choose from. They’d turned onto the highway into town when she said, “Is there someplace private we could talk?”
Talk? That sounded promising. Maybe they were finally on the same page. “How about a beer?”
She shot him a glance. “At a bar, you mean?”
“I was thinking maybe DJ’s Deluxe.” The bar there was gorgeous, and they could move to the main restaurant for a nice dinner after he got her to agree to go out with him, to see where this attraction might take them.
Another quick sideways glance from her. Then, “I was thinking someplace quiet, just you and me. The turnoff to Bushwhacker Creek’s coming up. Let’s go there.”
He had a blanket in back and he knew a couple of pretty spots along that creek. “All right.”
A few minutes later, he turned onto a dirt road. Not long after that, at a wide bend in the road, he pulled over and parked.
She didn’t wait for him to see to her door but got out on her own. He refused to take that as a bad sign. Vanessa Cruise was an independent woman, and he liked that about her almost as much as he wished she would give in and let him treat her the way a man ought to treat his woman.
He took the blanket from the toolbox in back. They set out along the road until they came to the trail that descended to creek side. After a nice stroll along the bank, they came to a tree-shaded spot he particularly liked.
“This looks good,” he said.
They spread the blanket and sat down. “It’s nice here,” she said, her gaze on the clear, rushing water.
He studied her profile, admired the graceful slope of her nose and the inviting fullness of those lips of hers. He loved her freckles, the darker ones visible even today, with the sexy Miss Bronco makeup masking them. One rode the apple of her right cheek. He couldn’t see that one at the moment, but he knew it was there, waiting to tempt him when she turned her head his way. As for the small constellation of them closer to her mouth on the left side, those he could touch right now with a brush of his fingers—or better yet, the press of his lips, the swipe of his tongue.
If she would let him.
At this point, he couldn’t be sure she would, and that had him hesitating to make his move.
She turned to him. There it was, that lone visible freckle on the apple of her cheek. “I can’t help thinking that there’s still a lot of summer left.” Not near enough, if you asked him. “I’m here till the end of August.”
He actively held himself back from touching her. It took serious effort, but somehow, he managed it. So far, at least. “A lot can happen in two months.”
“Well, I, um...”
“Yeah?”
