Page 60 of Roping Her In

“It’s a Valentine’s Day dance,” he said, blinking at her.

“Exactly why I asked what the dress code was.” She huffed out a noise of impatience with him and turned to start opening his cupboards. “All right, I need chicken bouillon and cornstarch. Tell me you have some basic stuff here, cowboy.”

Jake simply liked the shape of her in his house and her presence there, as it once again felt like the sun had finally come out, and he was just barely feeling the warmth of it for the first time in years.

Now he just had to figure out how to keep Hailey in his life, as he knew a woman like her wouldn’t accept anything but the very, very best, and he didn’t feel like he’d ever been the very, very best at anything, for anyone.

Jake fiddled with a tie at his throat, finding it too fussy. Hartford had left to pick up his date for the dance—the same woman he’d been going out with for the past few weeks—and he’d driven all the way to town.

He’d been wearing a black pair of jeans, his cowboy boots, and a green, black, and white plaid shirt. Jake’s Sabbath Day outfit suddenly didn’t make any sense, and he hurried to strip out of it and text Hailey about the change of attire.

She’d taken this weekend away from the ranch and the on-call duties as well, which was just fine, seeing as how they were down to only thirty cows left to give birth. She’d said she’d drive out to Three Rivers and meet him, as it was a ninety-minute round trip just to get her and bring her back.

I think what I’m wearing will work no matter what you wear, Hailey said. I got a new dress, but it’s nothing fancy.

What color is it? he asked.

Pink, she said. And I usually hate wearing pink, but it’s Valentine’s Day, so I expect a really good reaction and tons of compliments.

Jake chuckled and said, I’ll blow you away with my response to your pink dress, then he dove into his closet to find something else to wear.

He wasn’t attending church with Hailey, and he’d been to a few other dances at the ranch before. Someone would be calling the line dances—probably Rusty—and they’d have food and drinks. He didn’t need to act like this was some sort of high school prom.

He was thirty-four years old, a lead veterinarian at a busy ranch, and a cowboy. He stepped into a pair of dark wash jeans and looped his best leather belt around his waist, feeling more like himself than he had in his church clothes.

Now he just needed to find the right shirt, and pray he gave Hailey the exact right reaction to her dress when he saw her.

24

Hailey parked where prompted and got out her SUV. She’d texted Jake when she’d left her condo, and the man had her pin on his map app too, so she wasn’t surprised at all to find the tall, handsome cowboy walking toward her the moment she’d reached the back bumper.

He came to a dead stop right there in the middle of the drive, with a pick-up truck pausing behind him. He put both hands over his heart, and she heard him suck in a breath though he still stood a good twenty feet from her.

“That is the most beautiful dress in the whole—wide—world,” he said.

Hailey swished her skirt, her face heating despite the coolness of the night. “You’re blocking traffic.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I can’t move, because your gorgeousness has struck me immobile.”

The crepe dress moved easily around her legs and ankles as she walked, and she couldn’t stop grinning. “I think pink washes me out.”

“Not even close,” Jake said, and he did somehow find the wherewithal to start walking again. His eyes scanned down to her feet, and Hailey lifted the skirt so he could see her boots.

“They’re not steel-toed, but I bet they can still do some damage if I step on your feet.”

Jake laughed and swept her into his arms. “Is this your way of telling me you’re not a good dancer?”

“I can do the slow stuff.” Hailey took a deep breath of his skin, getting the cleanliness of soap, and the spiciness of his cologne. She pulled back and gazed at him, still in a bit of awe that she found herself in Jake’s arms. “I might sit out the line stuff.”

“Oh, you can’t do that,” he said. “It’s literally toe-tapping and boot-scooting, and like…a grapevine.”

Hailey giggled. “I’d like to see you do a grapevine right now.”

His eyebrows went up, her challenge clearly accepted. He moved away from her a couple of steps, and he looked so natural in his dark jeans, a matching brown belt to go with his cowboy boots and hat, and a deep, dark, blood-red polo with tiny pinstripes on the top half.

Cowboy perfection, she thought. For Valentine’s Day.

He performed a flawless grapevine and laughed again. “See? Easy, peasy.”