The Perfect Man

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Which he had.

  She’d told him he was no different from everyone else. He believed all the clichés about rich people. He’d demonstrated that prejudice beautifully tonight, hadn’t he? He’d found out she was rich and had assumed the worst.

  By the time he pulled up in front of the ranch house, his anger had drained away and he felt like crap for beating up on her like that. But the truth was, he didn’t really know how she felt about him. She’d planned to tell him, she’d said, but would knowing have made any difference really? She still might have viewed their affair as temporary fun. She’d said nothing to contradict that.

  He didn’t feel like going into the house, so he left his truck and walked down to the barn. Horses had always calmed him. Even though he associated Janis and Buddy with Astrid, he drifted toward the foaling stall. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.

  Janis was munching her evening oats, and Buddy came over on his stiltlike legs to investigate Fletch. Fletch stroked the sweet baby’s nose and told him what a great stallion he would become someday. Astrid had made this birth possible, and Fletch couldn’t forget that as he scratched Buddy’s soft coat.

  Another vet might have pushed for a C-section, which would be more costly—more profit for the vet—and might result in all kinds of complications. Astrid had hung on for the natural approach, letting Janis work it out herself. Fletch realized that could have backfired, but he’d been with Astrid on that. If the decision had been wrong, they would have shared the blame.

  We’ve shared so much.

  They had, and none of it had to do with being rich or poor. It had been all about the love of animals and a general optimistic belief that if left alone, the animals would figure out the best course of action. It was, he realized, a philosophy of animal management, but it was also a general philosophy of life. Don’t push extreme measures. Wait and see. Let things unfold naturally.

  Had she been trying to do that with their relationship? Then they’d been thrown into a high-pressure situation, and the natural timetable had been skewed by her plunge into the stream. He remembered that she’d driven across the bridge while thinking about him.

  Janis finished her oats and came over for some petting. “What do you say, girl?” Fletch brushed her forelock out of her eyes. “Am I an idiot?”

  Janis snorted and bobbed her head.

  It was a typical horsey gesture, not to be interpreted in any special way, but Fletch laughed. “Could be I am. You’re the expert on these things. There’s no finer treatise on it than Janis Joplin’s ‘The Rose.’”

  He was officially getting slap-happy, but talking to the horses was better than wandering up to the house and facing that empty king-sized bed. He looked for reasons to stay, and ended up straightening tack and sweeping the wooden aisle between the stalls.

  That’s where he was when Astrid walked into the barn. He saw a movement, glanced up from his sweeping, and saw her standing under an overhead light, a blonde angel who made his heart leap. He dropped the broom.

  “I couldn’t leave it like that between us,” she said.

  He took a breath. “I was mean.”

  “Yes, you were. I didn’t know you had it in you to be that mean.”

  “Neither did I.” His chest tightened. “Apparently you get to me.”

  “Likewise.” She stayed right where she was, not advancing, but not retreating either.

  He hoped she wasn’t a figment of his imagination, but she looked real enough. “For the record, I’m not automatically prejudiced against rich people.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” She took a deep breath. “But if being rich is a problem to you, I’d rather give away every penny if that would . . . would . . .”

  She wasn’t going to move, but he did. He closed the distance between them in three strides. Stopping in front of her, he looked into her eyes. “Would what?”

  She swallowed. “Would allow us to love each other.”

  That was all he needed. He swept her into his arms. “Loving you has nothing to do with money.” Then he kissed her and poured all that he felt for her into that kiss.

  With a moan, she responded, telling him without words how much he meant to her.

  She’d told him all this before with her kisses, and he hadn’t been willing to listen. No one surrendered like this without love in her heart. She’d cared all along. He’d been the fool who hadn’t recognized it.

  He kissed her, and kissed her some more. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”

  “I’m so sorry I gave you reason to doubt.” Then she wrapped her arms around him as if she would never let go.

  At last he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Astrid, and I intend to marry you. Is that a problem?”

  She smiled. “No, it’s a solution. If you didn’t love me, I would be heartbroken, because I love you, too.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “A very dear friend gave me some wonderful advice. She said that once they see how happy you make me, they’ll come around.”

  “I intend to make you so happy that they’ll come around really fast.”

  Her expression sobered. “I wasn’t kidding, Fletch. If you’re uncomfortable with the money, I’ll get rid of it. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” He hugged her tight. “If you’re determined to divest yourself of your fortune, I have a suggestion for where to put it.”

  “Into your breeding program?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s wonderful! I thought you wouldn’t take it.”

  “That would be dumb, now, wouldn’t it? What idiot turns his back on the prospect of making a dream come true?”

  “Not me.” She cradled his face in her hands.

  “Not us.” And instead of kissing her, he scooped her up in his arms. The barn might be great for stolen moments, but he had some serious lovemaking in mind. For that, he intended to take the love of his life inside and make use of a sturdy king-sized bed. This time, they wouldn’t even have to worry about mud.

  Epilogue

  Wanting to share her joy with her friends, Astrid called for a girls’ night out at their favorite watering hole, Golden Spurs & Stetson in downtown Dallas. Melanie and Val were waiting for her at their customary table near the front door when she hurried in.

  They both leaped up to hug her and exclaim over how happy she looked.

  “I’m beyond happy.” She beamed at her friends as they settled into their chairs. “I didn’t know a feeling this great even existed!”

  Melanie practically bounced in her chair. “I knew it! I knew he was right for you!”

  Val reached over and squeezed Astrid’s hand. “Good for you, getting away from the bad kisser and going for the guy who knows how.”

  Astrid grinned. “Yes, ma’am, he sure does.”

  “Look at you.” Melanie regarded her with pride. “You’re positively glowing.”

  “And we need drinks!” Val said. “The waitress was just here, but it’s busy tonight. I’d better go find her.”

  After she left, Astrid glanced at Mel. “It was a close call with Fletch. I should have followed your advice and told him about my family sooner. Thank God he didn’t stay angry with me.”

  “He didn’t because he loves you. And you love him.”

  “I do. I can’t believe how much.” She lowered her voice. “So how is Val taking this? Is she still determined not to date anyone?”

  “Yes, and I’m worried about her. That fire at the concert was horrible, I know, but she’s not getting over it. I wish she’d see a therapist, but she keeps putting that off. Her paranoia is ruining her love life, and I get the feeling it’s affecting her job, too.”

  “That’s bad. I mean, when we’re forced to sit at th
e front table every time we come here, just so she’s near the door . . .”

  “Right. Here she comes.”

  Val flashed a smile as she pulled out a chair. “Talking about me, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Astrid met her gaze. “We both think you should see somebody.”

  “I see lots of people!” Her determined smile grew brighter. “The law office is chock-full of them. People everywhere.”

  “I mean about your issues.” Astrid refused to let Val joke her way out of it. Her friend’s funky clothing choices and trendy haircut made her look like a confident woman of the world. Instead, after breaking her arm during a mob scene at a concert, she’d become a scared rabbit. “This overly cautious person is not the Valerie Wolitzky I remember from college.”

  “That’s for sure,” Melanie said. “I still think about that epic trip to Six Flags our senior year. God, that was fun. We should do it again.”

  Val’s face grew pale. “We could,” she said quickly, “but you have so much to do getting ready for your wedding to Drew, and all signs point to Astrid launching into wedding planning soon, so maybe—”

  “It’s okay.” Astrid touched her arm. “We wouldn’t drag you there. Not until you’re ready. But seriously, would you at least start researching therapists?”

  “Sure.” Val nodded. “I’ll do that.” But she glanced up with obvious relief when the waitress arrived to take their drink orders. Then she changed the subject.

  Astrid let her, because beating her over the head about the situation wouldn’t help. But she hated that Val wasn’t living life to the fullest.

  Now more than ever, Astrid understood how important that was. Thanks to Fletch, she was alive, in every sense of the word. She wanted that kind of joy for Val, too. If only something, or someone, would come along and jolt her out of the miserable rut she was in.

  Their margaritas arrived, and Val raised her glass. “Here’s to Astrid and Fletch finding each other.”

  “At long last,” Melanie said with a smile.

  “It was truly a miracle.” Thanking her lucky stars, Astrid clinked glasses with Melanie and Val and sipped her drink. Then she raised it again and glanced at Val. “Here’s to going for the gusto.”

  Val laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll find a therapist. Geez.” And she touched her glass to Astrid’s and Melanie’s.

  Astrid wished she could get a time commitment on that promise but decided not to push tonight, which was supposed to be about celebrating, not soul-searching. Astrid had much to celebrate. She had great friends, a wonderful career, and she’d been lucky enough to find a guy who was everything she’d ever wanted. He wasn’t the billionaire she’d always assumed she’d marry, but she’d learned that, for her, a cowboy was the perfect man.

  Safe in His Arms

  VALERIE

  One

  One minute Valerie Wolitzky was drinking margaritas with her two pals, Astrid Lindberg and Melanie Shaw, in their favorite Dallas watering hole, the Golden Spurs & Stetson. The next minute an alarm shrieked, and Val leaped from her seat, knocking over her chair and her drink. She had to get out. Now.

  Panic buzzed in her ears as she charged the front door. She had to beat the mob of people. If she didn’t, she’d be trapped . . . just like before.

  Wham! She hit a solid wall of muscle and staggered back. A cowboy blocked her way. She shoved him hard. “Let me out!”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “Hold on, there, ma’am. What’s the problem?”

  Was he an idiot? With adrenaline-fueled strength, she pushed him aside and barreled through the door, almost knocking down a second man who was right behind him. But she got out the door.

  Safe! She was safe! Shaking, she leaned over and braced her hands on her knees as she gulped for air. The warm breeze of a summer night touched her wet cheeks. She swiped at them as she slowly straightened. She needed to sit down, but there was nowhere to—

  “Val!” Astrid’s shout penetrated the buzzing in her ears, and she turned. Her two friends burst through the door of the bar and rushed toward her.

  Relief that they were okay was followed by hot shame. She hadn’t thought of them, hadn’t even tried to save them. She’d only thought of herself.

  “Omigod, Val.” Melanie, brown hair flying, reached her first and hugged her. “It’s okay. Some smoking oil set off the smoke detector in the kitchen. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Filled with gratitude for her friend’s safety, Val hugged her back without paying much attention to what she was saying.

  Astrid joined the huddle and rubbed Val’s back. “Easy, girlfriend. Take it easy. Everything’s fine.”

  Gradually Valerie’s heartbeat slowed, and the grip of fear eased. She took a quivering breath and wondered why she wasn’t hearing sirens. She stepped out of Melanie’s embrace and looked around. “Where are the fire trucks?”

  “There’s no fire.” Astrid continued to stroke her back. “Just a little smoke.”

  “Did they evacuate the building?”

  “No, sweetie.” Melanie gazed at her with compassion. “They shut off the alarm right away and came out of the kitchen to explain the problem.”

  Valerie’s heart started pounding again. Dear God. “I was . . . the only one who ran out?”

  Both Melanie and Astrid nodded.

  “Well, except us,” Melanie added. “We took off after you.”

  “Oh, no.” Val covered her face as embarrassment flooded through her, scorching her cheeks. She’d overreacted. Caused a scene. Involved her friends in her craziness. Slowly she lowered her hands and stared at them in misery. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Astrid squeezed her arm. “But Val, it’s time to get serious about—”

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?” The cowboy Valerie had smacked into when she fled now walked over to her, trailed by the other guy, who wore a business suit. They both looked worried.

  Val thought of the old cliché and wished the sidewalk really would open up and swallow her. “Yes, thank you.” She wished the words didn’t sound so wobbly and uncertain.

  “You don’t look all right.” The cowboy kept coming. He had a purposeful, John Wayne stride, and he towered over the other man. “You’re shaking like a newborn foal. What happened in there?”

  Melanie put a protective arm around Val’s shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, but she’ll be fine.”

  He paused and tipped his Stetson back with his thumb. “I’m sure she will. I just . . . was it the smoke alarm that spooked you? I heard it go off right before I got to the door.”

  He seemed like a nice guy who only wanted to help. Val couldn’t fault him for that after she’d tried to knock him down in her full-out panic mode. He must have seen the terror in her eyes. “I’m afraid I overreacted.” She cleared her throat and summoned her lawyer’s voice. “I apologize for plowing into you and yelling. That was rude.”

  “No worries.” He glanced at Astrid and Melanie standing on either side of her. “I’m glad your friends are here.” He hesitated before bringing his attention back to Val.

  His eyes were gray. Not a gloomy, dark sort of gray, but light, almost silver. They shone with kindness. “Listen, I don’t know you at all, and I’m probably butting in where I have no business, but I understand a little something about post-traumatic stress.” He turned to the man who’d come up behind him. “And my buddy Will wrote the book on it. Literally.” He looked at Val again. “If you need—”

  “To see someone?” She managed not to choke on the words. “I appreciate the thought, but I have that covered.” She had nothing covered, because she was determined to handle the issue herself, despite what her friends thought she should do. But he didn’t have to know any of that.

  “Good. That’s good. But if you need a second opinion, I highly recommend Will. Say, W
ill, you have any cards with you?”

  “I think so.” The man reached inside his suit jacket. “Yep. Here’s one.”

  Val stepped back, away from the outstretched business card. If she ever decided to go that route, she’d find her own shrink. Locating the right person would require lots of research. A chance meeting on the sidewalk didn’t qualify as an intelligent method for hiring a professional therapist. “Thanks, but I—”

  “I’ll take it.” Astrid reached for the card. She looked at the name printed there before tucking the card in her jeans pocket. Then she exchanged a glance with the cowboy.

  Val figured that the wordless message between Astrid and the cowboy was along the lines of I can handle it from here.

  As if to confirm that, the cowboy touched the brim of his hat, a classic farewell gesture. “We’ve kept you ladies long enough. I’m glad you’re all right, ma’am. You three have a nice evening.” Both men turned and headed back toward the bar.

  Val swung to face Astrid. “I know what you’re up to, but I’m not making an appointment with some guy I met on the street.”

  “Oh, yes, you are.” Astrid’s blue eyes flashed with determination. She was small and blonde, but anyone who underestimated her because of that would be making a huge mistake. “He’s not just some guy. He’s Will Bryan, who’s appeared on lots of talk shows because of his book on PTSD. I’ve seen him on TV, but somehow I missed the fact he’s from Dallas.”

  “So he’s famous? Then I’ll bet he’s booked solid.” That should take care of that.

  Melanie spoke up. “If he’s booked solid, he would have said so instead of handing over his card. Anyway, that cowboy seems to be his good friend, and he suggested you contact this Will guy. If you mention to Will that you were the tall redhead he met outside the Golden Spurs and Stetson, I’m sure he’ll work you in.”

  “Yeah, and charge me a million bucks now that he’s so well known.” Another excellent reason why she wouldn’t be calling him.

  Astrid’s jaw firmed. “Being prominent doesn’t necessarily mean he charges more than anyone else. And if his fee is really high, then I’ll—”