Page 7 of Love Me, Cowboy
Whatever Tyler was about to say was lost in the distance as Claire charged across the lobby, glancing left and right for any sign of Marilyn. But when she reached the entrance, Claire forgot her mission when she spotted a tall brunette climbing out of a dirty, white pickup.
“Georgia!”
Chapter Three
Tyler wasn’t sure how it happened. One minute he was following orders, hiding from his stepmother, and the next he was riding along with Reed McCormick to drive Georgia Hightower’s BMW back to town. She’d run out of gas on a back road where Reed found her and came to the rescue.
After filling the gas tank, Tyler squeezed into the tiny luxury car, while Reed went his own way. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice Tyler peeling himself out of the girly car in the Imperial Hotel parking lot. He’d been tempted to check in on the party. To see how Claire was holding up against both his stepmother and her own parental unit.
But then common sense returned. Nothing was ever going to happen between him and Claire Campbell. He’d chased that trail and gotten nothing but an empty bed the next morning. Tyler would be damned if he’d play the fool again on that front.
So they’d see each other off and on over the next couple of weeks. Both would play a part in his sister’s wedding, surrounded by flowers and rings and happy-ever-after junk.
That was the problem—the wedding stuff. It was as if some virus had been let loose in the air and was muddling his brain.
Tyler hadn’t encountered Claire in the four months she’d been back, and he hadn’t even been trying to avoid her. Once the wedding was over, they’d probably not see each other but every few months, and even then, from a distance.
That meant Tyler just had to get through the next two weeks without making an idiot of himself. He could do that. Or thought he could, until he walked into the Thirsty Cowboy later that night and spotted Claire looking hotter than he’d ever seen her look before.
* * *
Claire felt like a stuffed sausage wearing silver Lycra, painted-on jeans, and the reddest lipstick she’d ever seen in her life. She might as well have a sign over her head flashing the words hard-up hooker for all the Thirsty Cowboy crowd to see. And thanks to Georgia’s little makeover, every cowboy in the room was getting the message, even without the actual sign.
As soon as she’d separate herself from one with fast hands, she’d encounter another who leaned in close enough to threaten her with razor burn. She’d been bobbing and weaving for hours, while Georgia kept the boys on the dance floor drooling. Her little black dress was so little, Claire feared there would be an underwear flashing any minute.
As if Claire hadn’t seen enough lingerie for one day.
This time Georgia was dancing with Reed McCormick. Claire liked Reed. He was a stand-up guy who didn’t chase every pretty girl in town. In fact, he’d fended off a number of advances if the Holly Hills grapevine was to be believed.
Heck, if Reed showed the slightest inkling toward political aspirations, Claire’s mother would have made him the victim of one of her matchmaking dinner parties, where the poor schmuck thought he was dining with the town’s first family but was really being hurled into Claire’s path for future matrimony. Lucky for Reed, he preferred tangling with barnyard animals instead of the ones vying for political power. Though he looked a bit tangled up with Georgia at the moment.
The look on Reed’s face as Georgia left him standing at the edge of the dance floor said the vet hadn’t been quick enough to avoid George’s claws. And then Claire caught sight of a grinning cowboy moving in from her left and scrambled through the crowd in Reed’s direction.
“Quick,” she said, her hazel eyes filled with panic. “Dance with me.”
Claire didn’t give Reed time to answer, looping her arms around his neck and maneuvering him back onto the dance floor from the sideline where George had left him.
“What is wrong with men?” Claire muttered, moving easily through the crowd.
“You know I’m one of them, right?”
“Well, yeah, but you’re not really a guy-guy, you know?”
Reed looked offended. “I’m a guy-guy. Want me to prove it?”
Claire stiffened. “What?”
He laughed. “You’re safe. I won’t ravage you here on the dance floor in order to prove my masculinity.”
Claire rubbed her red lips together and contemplated her dance partner. “You have the hots for Georgia, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “Too difficult.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say, but they come anyway. You’d be good for her, you know,” Claire said, happy to focus on something other than cowboy dodging. George put up a strong front, as she always had, but the stubborn woman could use a little male TLC to scrub away some of her cynicism. “She needs someone gentle.”
“Again, you’re wounding my pride. I’m going to have to open beer bottles with my teeth for the rest of the night.”
Claire laughed. “You know what I mean. You have a way about you. It stills a person.”