Bidding on a Texan

by Barbara Dunlop

  Her next thought was of Lila, and she knew she was onto something useful. The woman would be her next stop. Gina pushed the button to start her car.

  Ten blocks and one pit stop at Angelo’s Pizzeria later, she was pulling into the Chamber of Commerce parking lot. She went through the main entrance to reception, hoping to find Lila in her office.

  It was nearing one o’clock and the admin area was empty, but she found Lila’s open office door and knocked.

  Lila looked up from her computer and seemed surprised. “Gina?”

  Gina gave an apologetic smile and held up the large pizza box and two soft drinks. “Lunch?” she asked.

  Lila pushed back from her computer, beaming then. “A woman after my own heart.”

  “I’m here to pick your brain,” she admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Does that pizza have pepperoni on it?”

  “The works, plus extra cheese.”

  “Then my brain is all yours.” Lila gestured to a small round table in the corner of her office. She cleared away a few files and put them on her desk. “Smells amazing.”

  Gina set the pizza box in the middle of the table and peeled back the lid.

  Lila helped herself to a slice and they each opened a soda. “So, what’s up?”

  “Two questions,” Gina said while Lila took a bite, then made a comical face of ecstasy.

  Her phone rang, but she waved it off and swallowed. “It’ll go to voice mail. Go ahead.”

  “First, what would my authority be to organize and execute the auction?”

  “Good question. I mean, nobody really said at the meeting. But it was your idea. And you’re arranging the liability insurance.” Lila shrugged. “I’d say, go for it.”

  “You’re saying nobody’ll stop me if I take the helm?”

  “I don’t see why they would.”

  Gina chalked that one up as a win. She lifted a slice of the gooey pizza, looking forward to diving in. “Then, second, I need people to take me seriously.”

  “Who’s not taking you seriously?”

  Voices sounded in the reception area as people obviously returned from lunch.

  “Hang on a second.” Lila rose to close the door. Then she returned to sit back down.

  The two women ate and drank in silence for a few minutes before they got down to business.

  “So, who needs to take you seriously?” Lila asked as she went in for a second slice.

  “I went down to the Royal Tonight! studio this morning. I thought we could get Mandee Meriweather to MC the auction.”

  “That’s a really good idea.”

  “I couldn’t get past the receptionist.” Gina rolled her eyes. “She thought I was an actress looking for a job.”

  Lila took in Gina’s outfit. “That’s because you’re so pretty.”

  Gina knew it was more than that. “You’re pretty, maybe prettier than me. Lots of women are pretty. But everyone respects you.”

  Lila seemed to consider. “Maybe it’s a glam thing. You’ve got a flare, a style.”

  “So do you.”

  “My glam look is really new.” Gina recalled how Lila had undergone a transformation this summer as she became active on social media.

  “I was thinking I should get a pair of glasses.”

  “You need glasses?” the other woman asked.

  “No. They’d be clear, but they’d give me, you know, an intellectual look.”

  “Maybe,” Lila said, tilting her head sideways as she considered Gina. “But I think it’s more of an attitude.”

  “Could you teach me that? The attitude?” Gina wiped her glistening fingertips on her paper napkin.

  “Okay...here’s the thing.” Lila rocked her head, like she was thinking hard. “Am I going to insult you?”

  Gina braced herself. “Go ahead...give it to me with both barrels. No, wait!” She took another slice of pizza. “Okay. Now.”

  Lila laughed. “It’s not how you look. Okay, it’s a little bit how you look. I wouldn’t get glasses. I might rethink the dress and the earrings—for the purpose of business, that’s all. They look great on you. But maybe separates? Or solid colors?”

  Gina nodded. She could do that...and wouldn’t even need to go shopping. Her closet was full of all kinds of different pieces, some she’d never worn.

  “Attitude, too. How do I say this? Don’t depend on...guys wanting to buy you a drink.”

  Gina drew back, a little bit insulted. “I don’t try to get men to buy me drinks.”

  “But they do.”

  Yeah, Gina would admit that, always of their own volition. But she nodded again.

  “You’ve spent your whole life being charming.”

  “And nothing else?” Gina guessed that’s how the sentence ended.

  Lila gave a grimace. “Yeah, here’s the part where I might insult you.”

  “Wait. We haven’t gotten there yet?” Now Gina really braced herself.

  “It’s more what you do.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  Lila grimaced again.

  Oh, ouch. “And it shows.”

  “Not so much shows in that people can see it on you, but you don’t have a reputation for getting things done. You haven’t built up credibility, made connections, gained people’s trust.”

  “Too busy being charming, huh?”

  Lila shrugged. “Too busy doing what’s worked for you your whole life. Nobody blames you for that.”

  “It sounds like you do.”

  Now it was Lila who looked like she was bracing herself.

  “No,” Gina said. “I’m not mad. I’m...disappointed, in me. Because you’re right.”

  “You succeeded in your world, probably because you’re smart. But if you want to succeed in a different world—and that’s what I’m hearing—you need to be smart in a different way. Stop depending on your charm and your looks and your family connections. Hone some of your other tools.”

  Gina considered what those tools might be. “I took a project management course in college. I can write a critical path.”

  “That’s good. But there’s one particular best-in-class, beats-everything tool you’ll need.”

  Gina was all ears. “What’s that?”

  “Hard work.”

  “But, I do—” Gina cut herself off. If she was already working hard, she wouldn’t have this problem. And that was Lila’s point. “Wow.”

  “You took that better than I thought,” Lila said.

  “I won’t say it didn’t pinch.”

  “You barely flinched.”

  “Hard work,” Gina repeated, thinking the theory was so simple, but the execution would take work, and that work would be hard. She almost laughed at herself for the circular thinking.

  “You just look around and pick up whatever needs doing.”

  “Cowboys are what needs doing.” Gina grimaced. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

  Lila laughed.

  Gina elaborated. “First steps are to find enough cowboys for the auction. Also, to get Mandee Meriweather to agree to MC.”

  “You’re off to the races,” Lila said, giving a mock air toast with her slice of pizza. “Or, in this case, more like off to the roundup.”

  Four

  Rafe heard Gina was failing miserably with the local cowboys. He got wind of the rumor from Lorenzo, then from Matias. Same story, two sources, only difference was that Matias was happy about the potential cancellation of the auction.

  Rafe understood the business community was in trouble, and the ranchers were being asked to step up—again. He didn’t think it was up to him to save Gina Edmond. But then he spotted her coming out of the Royal Tonight! studios looking dejected, like she’d just had something else go off the rails.r />
  Questioning his own sanity, he swung his SUV into a parking spot at the sidewalk next to her shiny sports car.

  She didn’t look up, so he opened the driver’s door and stepped outside to get her attention.

  Gina saw him then and froze like a deer in the headlights.

  He couldn’t imagine why. Their last interaction had been spirited, sure, but it had also been fun, at least for him. He’d found himself attracted to her beyond her looks, which were obviously spectacular. But he also liked her spunk, her buoyant style, her intelligence and her ability to spar with him.

  He’d wanted to kiss her that night, to kiss her and so much more, and he’d wanted it pretty bad. But she didn’t know that. She wasn’t a mind reader.

  “Hey, Gina,” he said, giving her a casual nod in greeting.

  “Hi.” She didn’t move, so he shut his door and approached her, stepping up on the sidewalk.

  “How’s the auction coming along?” He knew the answer was “terrible,” but he didn’t want to let on that he’d been listening to gossip.

  “I’m working hard,” she said defensively.

  He was sure she thought she was. And maybe that was the truth. She’d certainly approached a whole lot of ranchers the past couple of days.

  He nodded to the Royal Tonight! studio. “Are they on board?”

  She followed the direction of his gaze with her own. Her answer was subdued. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  She squared her shoulders like she was gearing up for battle dressed in her slim gray dress and fitted jacket. The outfit was adorned with matte silver buttons, giving it a slightly military air. Her hair was swept back in a loose knot revealing a pair of tiny twister-silver hoop earrings.

  She tossed her head. “The small size of the event. At least that’s what they claim.”

  “You need more cowboys to auction?” he guessed, going with logic as well as what he’d learned from his brothers.

  “I’ve talked to most of the ranchers in Maverick County, even went over to Colonial. They’re not willing to volunteer their property or their cowboys.”

  “Did you go dressed like that?” he asked.

  She looked down at herself. “No. Not exactly. And what’s wrong with this?”

  “You look...”

  “Professional?”

  “Staid, uptight.”

  “No. I look professional,” she told him archly. “I already went over this with Lila.”

  Rafe let the Lila comment slide, since it wasn’t his central point, even though he was curious about what the other woman might have said. “They’re ranchers, not bankers.”

  “I don’t care who they are, looking competent and capable is important.”

  “So is looking approachable, respectful, like an actual human being.”

  Gina scowled at him. “Did you stop me just to insult me?”

  “No. I stopped you to help you.”

  She let out a strangled laugh.

  “When in Rome, Gina.” He raised his eyebrow to drive home his point.

  “I’m not going to pretend to be a rancher. Do you not think they’d see right through that?”

  “I’m not saying fake anything. But with your pedigree, your...” He paused to frame the right words. “Bearing and attitude, when you march up to a rancher’s front door looking like this, you can’t expect them to give you the time of day.” He realized his voice had grown louder and glanced around the quiet sidewalk to make sure no one had overheard.

  She didn’t respond, but she looked even more miserable.

  “Gina.”

  “Is this you gloating?”

  “No. It’s me helping,” he answered.

  “You have a ridiculous way of helping.”

  “I’m being honest.”

  “You’re being insulting.”

  He could see this was getting them nowhere. “What about this? Let me pick your wardrobe.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he bowled right over her. “And I’ll come with you to see the ranchers, and we’ll try again.”

  She shut her mouth, peering at him with suspicion.

  “No trick,” he assured her, holding his palms up. “I want this to work.” He did want it to work—for him, for the other businesses, for Royal itself, and even for Gina.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “For the sake of Royal. Come on.” He gestured to his SUV. “Let’s find you a pair of blue jeans that cost something less than an average mortgage payment.”

  “My jeans don’t cost—” She stopped mid-sentence, and her expression turned perplexed.

  “You don’t know the amount.” It was both funny and sad at the same time. Rafe rounded to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door, gesturing her in.

  “I...”

  “Which of them eludes you?” He genuinely wanted to know. “The cost of an average mortgage payment or the price of your blue jeans?”

  She lifted her chin and marched his way. “Neither.”

  “Oh, Gina.”

  She paused beside him and looked up. “Don’t oh, Gina me. I know things. They’re just different things. And I’m still learning...”

  She was too delightful for him to stay frustrated with for long. It was her superpower. Plus, he believed she truly was trying. A guy had to give her points for that.

  Inside the SUV, he doubled back along Cedar Street and turned onto Silversmith Road.

  “We’re not going to the Courtyard Shops?”

  “No, Princess.”

  “You want me to start calling you Cowpoke?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Call me whatever you want.”

  “Okay, Cowpoke. I don’t even know what you expect to find for clothes at this end of town.”

  Rafe knew exactly where he was going.

  A few miles later, he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall.

  “Mama’s Subs?” Gina read one of the signs. “Black Peak Appliance Repair? Sheila’s Dog Grooming?” She turned to him. “Is there a joke in this somewhere?”

  Rafe nodded directly in front of them.

  Gina looked. “Second Chance Shelf?” The name sank in and her eyes went wide. “What?”

  “You can’t stagger up to a ranch house in a pair of brand-new blue jeans. They have to look lived-in.”

  “I’m not wearing someone else’s clothes.”

  “Relax. They wash them before they resell them.”

  “No, Rafe. No freaking way. This is a showstopper for me.”

  He shut off the engine anyway. “You’re seriously going to stop the show over this?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not like I’m asking you to ride a bull or eat a bug.”

  She slid her gaze his way. “Eat a bug?”

  “The clothes are clean. They’re fine. And you’re wearing underwear.” He paused then, taking in the flinch in her expression. “You are wearing underwear, right?”

  “Yes, I’m wearing underwear.” But the look on her face made him wonder just how flimsy that underwear might be.

  He was forced to shake off several enticing images. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  “I mean, we don’t have time to mess around. Businesses are getting more stressed by the day, and I can’t see you keeping up the enthusiasm for this project forever. You need to sign up participants, nail Mandee down and find yourself a venue.”

  “We’re using the Elegance Ranch.”

  That answer caught him off guard. “Does Rusty know?”

  Gina’s father was an intensely elitist and private person. Rafe couldn’t see him agreeing to let his ranch be used for an auction that would be broadcast across the country, especially now with his family under such int
ense scrutiny.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “You are bold. And you’re brave. And I can’t believe you’re going to let a little thing like wearing used blue jeans stop you from making this work.” He had her with that argument. He knew he had her.

  She gave him a glare, and he opened the driver’s door, sliding out with the certainty that she’d follow.

  She did.

  * * *

  Gina stared in the cracked and pitted sliver of a mirror inside the tiny changing cubicle of Second Chance Shelf.

  “The red plaid is way too much,” she called through the thin curtain.

  “Show me,” Rafe called back.

  She whipped open the curtain to make her point. In the faded boyfriend-style blue jeans, the scuffed, tooled leather cowboy boots and the bright red plaid flannel shirt, she looked like someone from a sitcom.

  She stepped out and spread her arms wide. “See?”

  Rafe grinned. “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s comical, satirical, mortifying.”

  “The shirt is a bit of overkill.”

  “A bit?”

  “The jeans are okay.” He walked around to look at her from other angles. “And the boots work.”

  The light brown leather boots were surprisingly comfortable, worn but not shabby, with low, blocky heels. It had been a while since she’d worn shoes that had this much stability. They’d be good for crossing gravel driveways and uneven pastures. The jeans were faded an attractive pale blue with white top stitching. They were loose in the calves, low-waisted, soft against her thighs even though she’d bet they didn’t have a stitch of Lycra fabric to give them stretch.

  “Try the one with the flowers,” Rafe suggested. He’d sent her into the changing room with four different shirts.

  “The appliqué? No, thanks.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “I’m not going for cute.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  She gave him a look that was half frown, half glare.

  “They’re cowboys, Gina, not critics at Fashion Week.”

  “What do you know about Fashion Week?”

  “Enough to know it doesn’t have Western wear.”

  “Fine.” She’d decided humoring Rafe was her best move forward, so she gritted her teeth and did just that.