Crazy For the Cowboy (27 page)

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Georgie kept thinking that at some point Vince would seek her out to discuss this exciting new idea of RJ's. People in town could talk of nothing else. They were ecstatic that a news crew was coming at the end of the week and that RJ had asked Vince to take on the job of spokesperson for Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. But Vince himself was MIA.

When Monday came and went with no contact from Vince, and Tuesday looked as if it would turn out the same way, Georgie concluded that he didn't want to talk to her about the job offer or anything else. She would have loved to hear his version of how the trail ride had gone, but he hadn't briefed her on that, either.

Technically she could have called his cell and demanded that he do so because he was an employee. But she didn't actually need his recap. She knew the ride had been a huge success.

Vince's truck wasn't parked in front of the hotel as usual all day Monday, and Georgie had finally called Steve to make sure he hadn't checked out. Nope. But Steve didn't know where he was. His truck was gone again Tuesday when she walked to work. She'd considered hanging out at Sadie's because he had to eat sometime, but when she did talk to him, she didn't want it to be in front of a bunch of people.

Finally on Tuesday night she found herself in Anastasia's room pouring out her woes to both her sisters. Because Charmaine ran her own business, she'd been able to stretch out her visit a few more days.

“Well, I know what I'd do.” Charmaine sat propped by pillows against the headboard of Anastasia's bed while her sister painted an exotic design on her toenails.

“What?” Georgie had commandeered the desk chair and she swiveled it back and forth, unable to be still.

“Stop that.” Charmaine gave her a stern glance. “Tormenting that poor chair isn't going to help.”

She stopped swiveling, but then she had to get up and pace. “It's driving me nuts, not knowing. I realize he'll have to give RJ his decision before the news crew arrives, but I really think he's going to turn it down and I want to be prepared.”

Anastasia blew on Charmaine's toes. “If he's going to turn it down, wouldn't he have done it by now?”

“Yes. No. I don't know! That's the problem! I don't know, and after all we've been through, I just wish he'd talk to me.”

“So go to him,” Charmaine said. “Repeat your little trick from before and pay him a visit at midnight. Beard the lion in his den, as they say.”

“You don't think I'll look too needy if I do that?”

Charmaine rolled her eyes. “You
are
needy! Look at you! If he doesn't know he's making you suffer, and guys can be dense about those things, then he needs to know. If I had to make a guess, I'd say he thinks he's sparing you by working this out on his own.”

Georgie groaned. “He probably does, the idiot. That sounds just like him. Okay, I'll go.”

She coincided leaving the house with the chiming of the grandfather clock at midnight because it seemed appropriate. This would probably mark the absolute end of their relationship. Travis and Mac were due to arrive sometime next week. Whether Vince accepted RJ's offer—not likely—or left town—more likely—his buddies would be needed.

She'd told herself that he'd leave. She'd rather do that than allow herself to hope that he might stay. Maybe by going tonight she'd push him out the door that much faster, but her sisters were right. He needed to know that his behavior was putting her through hell.

Her outfit was the opposite of the one she'd worn the first time she'd come to his room. She wore old jeans, tennis shoes, and a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt that had seen better days. But her heart was pounding as wildly as it had that first night when she'd knocked on the door.

The sound of his footsteps made her hyperventilate. This had been a dumb idea. But she couldn't do anything about it now. She'd see it through. The door opened. She stared. RJ Steele stared back.

She clapped her hand to her mouth. Dear God, she should have thought of this. Of course Vince would have given up his premier room to RJ. Pulling her hand away, she launched into her apology.

He quickly interrupted. “It's okay,” he said gently. “Were you looking for Vince?”

“Um, yeah.” Heat flooded her cheeks. He had to know this wasn't her first midnight visit to Vince's hotel room.

“Two doors down on the left.”

“Thanks. I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. I hope you knock some sense into his thick skull.”

“RJ, if he really doesn't want to stay, then I'm not going to force him to.”

“No?” He grinned. “I heard about that incident with the whip. I was hoping you'd brought it.”

She held out her empty hands. “Nope.”

“Too bad.” And he closed the door.

She took her time going down to Vince's room. She wondered if he'd heard any of that. The doors were flimsy, so he very well might have. Then she thought about that day she'd charged toward him cracking a whip.

That woman wouldn't meekly accept his stubborn decision to leave town. That woman would give him a piece of her mind and tell him he was a complete idiot for even considering leaving this place, this job opportunity, and mostly her, the love of his life.

She'd worked up a good head of steam by the time she raised her hand to knock on his door. As she brought her fist down with a little more force than normal, he opened the door and she almost lost her balance as she pulled it back. RJ might have suggested knocking some sense into him, but she didn't want to take that too literally.

She recovered quickly and straightened. “You're a complete idiot, Vince Durant.”

“I know.”

“I'm the best thing that ever happened to you, and if you don't get that, then you don't deserve me.”

“You're absolutely right.”

“So what's with the disappearing act? What the
hell
have you been doing for two solid days? Because I want an explanation. I've been going crazy wondering—”

“Come in here.” He grabbed her arm, pulled her through the door, and shoved it closed. “No point in keeping Steele awake.”

She faced him. “Just so you know, he hopes I knock some sense into your thick skull.”

“I heard.”

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” She became aware of a nearly overpowering sweet smell and glanced around. The room was filled with flowers—roses, carnations, gerbera daisies, tulips, and several she couldn't identify. Eyes wide, she looked at Vince, who wore a sheepish expression. “What's all this?”

“It's sort of embarrassing.”

“You've decided to open a florist shop in Bickford?”

“No, they're for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because . . .” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I never expected to propose to anyone, and I had no idea how to do it, so I—”

“Hold it.” Her throat tightened. “Back up the bus, cowboy. Propose?”

He nodded. “I only plan to do this once in my life, so I've spent the last two days in Amarillo at the library, reading up on the best way to—”

“Propose?”
This didn't seem real, yet the scent of the flowers nearly knocked her over. “You want to marry me?”

“God, yes. And let me say up front that I'll probably disappoint you every damned day, but I'll love you every damned day, too, and I hope that makes up for all the times I'll be a complete jerk.”

She flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. “I accept. I totally accept.”

He gathered her close. “But this isn't the way it's supposed to go. You need a grand gesture. Lots of flowers, a flashy presentation, me down on one knee.”

“Bull. I need you.”

He captured her face in his big hands and gazed down at her. “But Georgie, you'll only do this once, too. Don't you want it to be special?”

“It is special, you big goof.” Her smile trembled. Her heart was so full that she wondered if she could hold all that joy without blubbering. “This will make a great story for the grandchildren. You tried to plan a grand gesture and I jumped the gun. They'll love it.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” She gazed into his beloved face. “This is a terrific proposal, Vince. The best.”

“Yeah?” His blue eyes sparkled. “Why?”

“Because it's from you.”

“M
ac, you must be craving that cold beer.” Travis hurried to keep up as they walked down Bickford's main street after another successful trail ride. “You haven't moved this fast since the time Vince snuck a tarantula into your shower.”

“And let the record show I haven't forgiven him for that.” But Mac modified his pace. Yeah, he was looking forward to sipping a cold one at Sadie's Saloon, but he was more focused on showing Anastasia the new pictures on his phone.

He'd snapped some beauties of the wild stallion and his herd while they were out this weekend and Anastasia would go nuts over them. But he didn't want Travis to know that was why he'd unconsciously lengthened his stride. Knowing Travis, he'd read too much into it.

Anastasia Bickford was just a friend and that's the way it would always stay. In the short time he'd lived here, they'd established the kind of relationship where they could talk about anything. Because Anastasia had such a creative mind, the topics were never dull.

“I like to savor my walk down Main Street after a trail ride,” Travis said. “Makes me feel like a hero.” He tipped his hat to a resident who walked by and called out a greeting. “People are grateful to us, Mac. I mean, just look at the difference we've made.” He gestured toward the colorful storefronts and the bustling tourist trade.

“Just remember, Vince got the ball rolling, not us.”

“Yeah, but we keep it rolling.”

“True.” Mac did take satisfaction in that as he gazed at the revitalized town. They were having a mild fall season, not much rain and not a hint of snow. Mac's denim jacket kept him plenty warm in the evenings, and during the day he was in his shirtsleeves. Perfect weather for trail rides.

Most shops had one of Anastasia's posters in the window advertising Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. It was a great image, but then Anastasia was a great artist. The poster featured a majestic gray stallion against a blue Texas Panhandle sky. That stallion, officially called the Ghost, had saved Bickford's ass.

Six months ago, Mac, Travis, and Vince had driven here, thinking they'd relive the fun times they'd had while working at a nearby guest ranch. They'd arrived to find stores boarded up and the town on the verge of collapse. After the guest ranch closed, the local economy had tanked, but Vince's brainstorm to offer trail rides into the canyon to see wild horses had saved the day.

“The way I look at it,” Travis said, “we guide the trail rides, right?”

“Right.”

“And according to those online surveys Anastasia sends out, customer satisfaction is high.”

“So she says.” He got a kick out of Anastasia's excitement over those surveys. He also suspected she deleted the negative ones.

“Which means we're doing a helluva job and I'm gonna claim some credit. Hello, ladies.” He touched the brim of his hat as they passed a couple of tourists laden down with shopping bags. “You oughta come on the trail ride,” he called after them. “I lead it!”

“Then we just might, cowboy!” one of them called back.

Mac shook his head. The actual trail boss was the one bringing up the rear, which would be Mac, but the women might not know that and Travis did love to flirt.

“See? I just drummed up more business by being my usual outgoing self. You and I are vital to the success of this venture.”

“You certainly are. I think you need a sandwich board and a bullhorn.”

“Nope. Doesn't fit my cool-dude image. But speaking of sandwiches, I'm hungry.” Travis paused at the entrance to the Double Dip, Bickford's refurbished ice-cream shop with its red-and-white-striped decor. “I have a hankering for a hot fudge sundae with extra fudge and nuts. Let's do it.”

“You go right ahead. I'd rather have a cold beer.”

“We'll have both. We'll drink beer after we finish the sundaes.”

Mac grimaced.

“You're such a finicky eater, Mac Foster. Go ahead to Sadie's. I'll catch up with you after I have my primo sundae.”

“Suits me.”

“But don't start the darts tournament until I get there.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” They'd formed the habit of playing darts in the afternoons with Anastasia and anyone else who was interested. “I'll just drink until you get there.”

“Perfect. I'll be sharp and you'll be sloshed.”

“Keep thinking that, amigo.” Mac grinned and continued on to Sadie's. He was just as glad Travis had decided to stop for ice cream. Talking to Anastasia about the pictures would be easier without Travis hanging over his shoulder, making comments and doing his usual flirting. Travis wouldn't ask her out, though, for the same reason he wouldn't.

Anastasia was Georgie Bickford's little sis, and Georgie was officially in charge of Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Vince had dreamed up the idea but he'd never planned on running the thing. He hadn't planned on sticking around, either, but he'd fallen for Georgie.

So Georgie still ran the operation, but Vince had become the official spokesperson for the venture, the one who handled the media. Surprisingly, there was media. A wild stallion and his band had turned out to be a story that had captured national attention.

In fact, Vince was in Houston this weekend talking to an animal advocacy group, and a film crew from Dallas would arrive in three weeks to shoot a documentary. Bickford residents were busting their buttons with civic pride. Nothing this big had ever happened here. Dwarfed by Amarillo to the north and Lubbock to the south, the town had always been small potatoes, even when the guest ranch had been operating.

Mac was happy for everyone, especially Anastasia. She deserved recognition for her work, and the documentary would help give her that. Sure, she had some art in a local gallery in Amarillo, thanks to Georgie's prodding, but that wasn't nearly enough exposure. With her talent, she should have been famous.

Opening the street door to the saloon, Mac looked straight over to the corner where she'd set up shop. Georgie had urged her to rent a storefront and create an actual studio, but so far Anastasia hadn't made that happen. She seemed to prefer the familiar atmosphere of Sadie's.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Lots of people came in here and her work hung all over the walls with For Sale tags on them. Ever since the trail rides had taken off, she'd sold plenty of her watercolors depicting the town and, of course, the Ghost. Plus she did charcoal portraits, and she'd picked up a lot of business sitting in a corner of the saloon with her sketch pad at the ready.

She was sketching someone right now, in fact. Mac smiled when he saw Ida Harrington sitting at Anastasia's table having her portrait done. Some people might laugh at a ninetysomething woman who colored her hair bright red and wore jeans and vests decorated with bling.

Mac thought Ida was terrific. She'd moved to Bickford after her wealthy husband died and left her a pile of money. But rather than offering it to the town when the residents had no viable plan, she'd waited until Vince had suggested the trail rides. Then she'd underwritten the bulk of the expenses.

Because Mac didn't want to interrupt Ida's portrait sitting, he walked over to the bar and ordered a beer.

Ike Plunkett had been the bartender when Mac had been a wrangler at the guest ranch, and Ike had hung on through the economic downturn. He was probably only in his forties, but had started losing his hair early. That plus his wire-framed glasses made him look brainy.

But it was his welcoming smile that brought customers into Sadie's, and he flashed it now. “The conquering heroes return. Where's Travis?”

Mac slid onto a stool. “Eating ice cream. And don't tell Travis he's a conquering hero. He's already out of control on that subject. I keep trying to convince him that we're just regular working guys.”

“Not to a lot of people around here.” Ike set a foaming glass in front of him. “You're like knights in shining armor.”

“More like tarnished armor.” Mac reached for his wallet.

“Put that away. This one's on the house, like always.”

Mac gazed at him in frustration. “I know the saloon's doing better, but you still have to make a living.”

“I make a good one, thanks to Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. Steve and Myra are doing handsprings over the number of hotel reservations that came in this week.”

Mac grinned at the image of Steve and Myra Jenson, both middle-aged and stocky, doing handsprings. They'd bought the Bickford Hotel and the attached saloon years ago when business was booming. They'd weathered the bad years, and now business was booming again. They deserved to reap the rewards.

“I'm glad everyone's happy,” he said, “but I still think I should pay for my beer.”

“Don't tell me.” Ike swiped a bar rag over a polished mahogany surface that had been the resting place for drinks for more than a century. “Steve gave me my orders. You'll have to take it up with him.”

“Maybe I will.” Mac sipped his beer and licked the foam from his lip. He liked it here in Bickford. He liked it so well he'd bought a fixer-upper east of town and was gradually getting it the way he wanted. First house ever. That was probably a sign he was growing up.

“Hey, handsome.” Ida appeared at his elbow. “Where's Travis?”

“Eating ice cream.”

“How wholesome of him.”

“He plans to follow the hot fudge sundae with his usual quota of beer.”

Ida wrinkled her nose. “That's disgusting. Did you tell him that's disgusting?”

“More or less. But he's a big boy.”

“You don't have to tell me. All three of you are pure eye candy.”

Mac's face heated. “Cut it out, Ida.”

“Not on your life. Age has its privileges. Anyway, I'm done if you want to go over and chat with Anastasia.”

“Can I see your picture, first?”

“I was hoping you'd ask.” Ida opened the professional-looking folder that Anastasia now used to protect a finished portrait.

Six months ago she'd sketched Mac and had simply handed him the sheet of paper. These days the presentation was far more elegant. He'd had her sketch of him framed, but he still didn't know what to do with it. Hanging it up in his house seemed conceited.

He looked at Anastasia's vision of Ida, and it was perfect. Anastasia had caught the irreverence and the sparkle, plus an underlying wisdom that some people missed because Ida was so outrageous. She didn't appear young in the portrait, but not ancient, either. More like ageless, and certainly someone you'd want to know.

Mac glanced at Ida. “It's you.”

“I
know
. That girl has some kind of magic. I've had her do my portrait six times, and this is the best. She just keeps getting better. When I croak, I want this in the paper with my obituary, not some studio shot when I was a kid of fifty.”

“I hope you're not planning on croaking anytime soon.”

“God, no. Too much going on. They want me to be in the documentary, and eventually Vince will marry Georgie, and I can't miss
that.
”

Vince laughed. “You certainly can't. None of us can. I'd crawl through quicksand to see Vince Durant finally get hitched. He was so sure it wouldn't ever happen.”

“He was at that, foolish boy.” Ida smiled. “But I knew.” Her thick glasses magnified the curiosity in her gaze. “When are you going to admit you have a thing for Anastasia?”