The Perfect Man

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Drew then shook Adam’s hand. “I recognize you, Templeton. You and I attended the same charity thing a couple of years ago. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Same here. I’m glad you were on board with Valerie’s idea.”

  “It’s a terrific idea.” Drew glanced toward the women, who were still in a huddle, and then looked at Adam and Fletch. “So, either of you into golf?”

  Both Adam and Fletch shook their heads.

  “I’m always up for a ride,” Adam said.

  Fletch nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Sorry,” Drew said. “I’m not much of a rider.”

  Fletch adjusted the tilt of his Stetson. “Poker?”

  “Poker works,” Adam said.

  “Excellent.” Drew smiled. “My place. Next Wednesday night.”

  “Okay.” Adam thought of Will, who loved a good poker game. He glanced at Drew. “Can I bring my friend Will?”

  “Absolutely. The more the merrier.”

  “Wednesday night’s great,” Fletch said. “Astrid’s got Melanie’s bridal shower that night.”

  “Yeah.” Adam had forgotten about that. “So does Valerie, come to think of it.”

  “My point exactly,” Drew said.

  “Hey, you guys.” Valerie walked toward them and linked her arm through Adam’s. “We were just thinking about next Wednesday night. We’ve got the shower, of course, but there’s this antiques auction that we’ll be missing, so we thought maybe you three—”

  “Wish I could,” Drew said, “but I have plans.”

  Fletch shook his head. “Sorry. I’m tied up, too.”

  “Yeah, so am I. What a shame.” Adam sighed in feigned disappointment.

  Astrid narrowed her eyes at them. “Why do I get the feeling that in the short time we left you three alone, you cooked up your own plan for Wednesday night?”

  Fletch laughed and put his arm around her. “Just playing a little defense, sweetheart.”

  Melanie surveyed the group. “Well, ladies, we were worried that they might not get along, and they’ve already outmaneuvered us.”

  “This time.” Valerie winked at Adam. “Hey, let’s go inside. I think we have some serious toasting to do.”

  “Yep, we certainly do.” Adam tucked Valerie in close as they walked into the bar. What a stroke of luck that he’d been in the right place at the right time that fateful night.

  Will had told him it was meant to be. Then he’d sent Valerie out to the ranch. Adam had accused him of matchmaking, like that was a bad thing. It occurred to Adam that not only had it been a very good thing, but he’d neglected to thank Will properly. He’d do that tonight.

  But Will was about to get his reward. Adam had found him a poker game. And Adam had never met anyone who could beat Will Bryan at poker.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Valerie returned from a quick trip to the ladies’ room and paused to survey the crowd. Everywhere she looked, people were smiling and laughing. Some had arrived as strangers and all were from different walks of life, but sharing in the happiness of three joyous couples had made everyone instant friends.

  Nothing else seemed important tonight—not social standing, and certainly not wealth or the lack of it. Seasoned ranch hands swapped stories with billionaires. Wealthy matriarchs talked earnestly with soccer moms. All around her, walls were coming down and stereotypes were being smashed.

  Glancing across the room, she caught and held Adam’s gaze. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. She’d been a little worried that this eclectic group wouldn’t jell, but it had. And now she knew why. All that mattered, all that ever really mattered, was love.

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  Vicki Lewis Thompson’s

  CRAZY ABOUT THE COWBOY

  A Sexy Texans Novel

  Available in May 2015 from Signet Eclipse.

  “Somebody should take a paintbrush to Sadie’s left nipple.” Vince Durant studied the six-by-ten mural on the far wall of Sadie’s Saloon as he swigged his beer. “It’s chipped.”

  A well-endowed nude reclined on a piece of red velvet Victorian furniture that he thought was called a fainting couch. Rumor had it that a local woman named Sadie had posed for the mural, but because the work was more than a century old, it was unconfirmed.

  “Sadie’s not the only thing needing a little TLC around here.” Ike Plunkett was still behind the bar, which was reassuring.

  Vince remembered Ike from seven years ago, and while the bartender’s hair was a little thinner and his glasses a little thicker, he looked virtually the same. That couldn’t be said for the town of Bickford, though. Except for the general store and this historic hotel, the place was pretty much dead.

  Come to think of it, he’d seen no evidence of anyone staying there besides himself and his two friends who hadn’t yet arrived. Even more troubling, the saloon was deserted, and that wasn’t normal for a Friday afternoon. At the end of the day, cowboys in the Texas Panhandle enjoyed sipping a cold one. “I never realized how much the town depended on the Double J.”

  “I don’t think any of us did until it was gone.”

  “You’d think by now somebody would have reopened it.” Vince wouldn’t have minded working there again. Turned out, he was good at wrangling greenhorns.

  “Can’t.” Ike used a bar rag to wipe down the whiskey bottles lined up beneath an ornate mirror behind the bar. “Somebody torched it, probably for the insurance, and the land’s tied up in a big legal hassle.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Vince polished off his beer and signaled for another. He was thirsty after the long drive from Fort Worth.

  “Not half as sorry as we are.”

  “No, probably not.” But he was sorry, and disappointed, too. He’d talked his buddies Mac Foster and Travis Langdon into having a reunion, figuring they could party in Bickford like they had during the year they’d all worked for the Double J. “I don’t suppose you have live music this weekend?”

  “We haven’t had a band in here for a long time. Can’t afford to pay ’em.”

  “That’s depressing.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Oh, well. At least you have beer!” Vince lifted his bottle in the direction of the mural. “And Sadie! After a few of these, I might decide to repaint her nipple myself.”

  The street door to the saloon opened with the squeak of an unoiled hinge, and Vince turned to see if Mac or Travis had come straight into the saloon instead of stopping by the hotel desk to check in like he had.

  His smile of welcome faltered when Georgina Bickford walked through the door. He took some comfort in noticing that she seemed as disoriented by his presence as he was by hers. It made no sense, really. It wasn’t like they had a history, although he’d tried his damnedest to charm her into going out with him. Maybe that was why he’d thought of her so often since then. She was the one girl he’d never been able to impress.

  She didn’t look particularly impressed to see him now, either. “Hello, Vince.”

  “Hello, Georgie.”

  Her voice was as cool as he remembered, and at least she hadn’t forgotten his name. After seven years, that said something. He wasn’t convinced it said something positive, though. A name could stick in a person’s mind for both good reasons and bad.

  “I’m surprised to see you here.” She approached slowly, as if he had yellow caution tape draped around his barstool. “Just passing through?”

  “Not exactly.” He thumbed back his hat so he could see her better. She’d gotten prettier over the past seven years, but she’d always been great to look at, with her big brown eyes and honey-colored hair. He’d asked around and found out that she’d left college to run the general store after her dad had died. Vince had tried to be friendly, but she’d never given him the time of day.

  She f
rowned. “If you’re looking for work, there’s not much to be had around here, I’m afraid.”

  “So I gathered.” He hesitated. Oh, what the hell? “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Shot down again, damn it.

  “Georgie’s first drink is on the house.” Ike sent a glance of compassion Vince’s way as he placed a glass of red wine on the bar. “All of the council members get one free drink per day. Bickford Hotel policy. It’s the least we can do when they have such a thankless job.”

  “You’re on the town council?” Then he wished he hadn’t sounded so surprised. “I mean, I’m sure you’re well-qualified and all. I just . . .”

  She appeared to take pity on him. “It’s okay. I’m the youngest member, but I also run the second-biggest revenue producer in town, so it’s logical for me to be on the council.” She smiled. “It wasn’t a tough race. No one ran against me.”

  Hey, a smile. Progress.

  “They wouldn’t have dared run against you,” Ike said. “What can I get you from the kitchen?”

  “A barbecued pork sandwich would be great. Thanks, Ike.”

  The bartender glanced at Vince. “Want to order some food?”

  “Not yet, thanks. I’ll wait for Mac and Travis to get here.”

  “Fair enough.” He opened the hinged section of the bar and walked back toward the kitchen.

  “Mac and Travis?” Georgie picked up her wineglass but remained standing beside the bar instead of hopping up on a stool. “The same Mac and Travis who used to work for the Double J?”

  “You have a good memory.” She hadn’t dated those old boys, either. Vince, Mac, and Travis had been the cutups of the group, and Georgie didn’t approve of cutups. She’d made that clear seven years ago, and he doubted that she’d changed.

  She took a sip of her wine. “Are you having some kind of Double J reunion?”

  “In a way, but it’s just the three of us.”

  Her brown eyes lit with curiosity. “And you’re meeting here, in Bickford?”

  “That’s the plan.” He liked her haircut, which was a little shorter than he remembered. It used to hang past her shoulders, but now it was chin length. The new cut made her look more sophisticated. Sexier.

  “Why meet here?”

  He shrugged. “It’s where we used to hang out, but I hadn’t realized the place had gone . . . uh, that it’s not the same.”

  “If you were about to say it’s gone to hell in a hand- basket, you’d be on target. If you want to have a fun time, y’all might want to head somewhere else. Go on up to Amarillo, maybe.”

  “It’ll be okay.” He didn’t remember her being quite so curvy seven years ago, either. She filled out the Bickford General Store’s hunter green T-shirt, although he was careful not to be caught ogling. He’d noticed that her jeans fit mighty nice, too. Not that it made any difference whether she was a knockout or not. She hadn’t changed regarding him. She showed no interest whatsoever.

  “I can’t imagine what you’ll find to do around here,” she said. “Sadie’s doesn’t heat up like it used to on the weekend. Anastasia and I might be the last two single women under thirty in Bickford.”

  “What about Charmaine?” He was surprised he remembered the names of her two stepsisters. Seven years ago, Anastasia and Charmaine had been too young to go out dancing at Sadie’s, but Charmaine had snuck in one time, and Georgie had marched her back home.

  “She’s working in Dallas. She’d party with you if she could, but she isn’t here, and Anastasia’s not into that. Besides, even if she was, there’s no live music anymore.”

  “Yeah, Ike said it wasn’t in the budget. No worries. I haven’t seen Mac and Travis since we left the Double J. Maybe it’s better this way. We can drink beer and catch up.”

  “For the entire weekend?” She sounded skeptical.

  “Well, no. We’ll do that at night, but during the day we’ll head out and round up the Ghost. Ike says he’s still—”

  “You most certainly will not!” She set her wineglass down with a sharp click and faced him, sparks of anger in her eyes. “Don’t y’all dare go out there and harass that poor horse for your own amusement!”

  He blinked in confusion. Seven years ago, the dappled gray stallion and his small band of wild horses had been fair game, a challenge for the cowboys who worked at the Double J. Vince and his buddies hadn’t succeeded in roping him, mostly because they’d never been able to devote an entire weekend to the project. Now they could.

  But Georgie was obviously ready to rip him a new one on the subject of the wild stallion. “There is no reason on God’s green earth why you should go after him! He’s not hurting anything, especially now that so few horses live in the area. Back when the Double J was in operation, I admit he tried to raid the corral a couple of times, but those days are over. There are four horses boarded at Ed’s stable, and they’re all geldings. No mares. The Ghost leaves us alone, and we leave him alone!”

  “But—”

  “Is that why you decided to rendezvous here? To go after that stallion?”

  “Partly, yeah. We always talked about capturing him, but we never did. Now seems as good a time as any.”

  Her eyes glittered in defiance. “You won’t find him.”

  “Oh, I think we will. We have two whole days to look.”

  Ike returned from the kitchen, and Georgie wheeled toward him. “Did you tell Vince that the Ghost was still out there?”

  Ike shrugged. “He asked. I wasn’t going to lie to the man.”

  “Are you aware that Vince and his two cohorts are heading out on some macho quest to rope him?”

  “I didn’t know that.” Ike looked at Vince. “You might want to reconsider. Georgie takes a special interest in those wild horses.”

  Crap. First he’d discovered that the town was deader than a doornail, and now Georgie Bickford was raining all over his wild-horse roundup. Maybe she was right and they should take this party elsewhere, but he’d craved the small-town experience, and he wouldn’t get that in Amarillo or Lubbock.

  Mac and Travis chose that moment to walk into the saloon. They’d shared a ride because they both worked at a ranch outside Midland. They sauntered in with wide grins, as if they owned the place. Vince left his barstool and went over to greet them. Much joking around and backslapping followed. Vince couldn’t believe how happy he was to see those old boys. Until they arrived, he’d been outnumbered.

  Mac and Travis tipped their hats and said hello to Georgie, who replied without smiling.

  “So, where is everybody?” Mac glanced around. “Hey, Georgie. What’s happened to this place?”

  “We’re experiencing an economic downturn.” Georgie’s jaw tightened. “I suggest you three mosey on to a place that’s more suited to your needs.”

  “Nah, we don’t need to do that,” Travis said. “I assume Sadie’s still serves beer.”

  “We do,” Ike said.

  “Then we’re in business.” Travis walked over to the bar and shook hands with Ike. “Good to see you. I’ll have a longneck, like always.”

  “And I’ll take my usual draft.” Mac sat on a stool next to him.

  “Coming up.” Ike looked nervous, but he busied himself getting the beer.

  Georgie cleared her throat. “I understand y’all are planning to round up the Ghost this weekend.”

  Mac nodded. “Yes, ma’am, we sure are. Isn’t that right, Vince?”

  For a split second Vince considered telling Mac there’d been a change of plans. Then his rebellious streak surfaced. By God, he’d organized this adventure, and he’d see it through. There was no law against chasing after that horse. He met Georgie’s flinty gaze. “That’s right, Mac.”

  Georgie’s mouth thinned. “Over my dead body.”

  nbsp;

  Vicki Lewis Thompson, The Perfect Man