The Cowboy and the Bombshell

by Dove Cavanaugh King

  It was busy, even for the middle of the week, but that was not unexpected. This was a twenty-four seven kind of town. Checking the address on my phone again, I set off in the direction of the photographer’s studio, my head on a swivel as I took it all in. Towering hotels, each with their own unique architectural theme, were interspersed with open spaces filled with palm trees and fountains, the flowing water adding an element of calm to the chaos that was the busy thoroughfare. People of all walks of life moved around me as I made my way up the street; folks in costumes looking to earn a buck, parents hauling their reluctant children from place to place, couples holding hands, and groups of young people traveling in packs. They all made a colorful mosaic that was as fun as it was beautiful.

  I was staring at a man-made volcano belching flames into the sky and wondering if anything could be more Las Vegas than a waterfall on fire, when a voice cut into my thoughts and drew my attention.

  “Well, hey there, sugar pie,” drawled the syrupy sweet voice steeped in country twang. I turned to see a very tall, very blonde, very buxom woman smiling at me, her hair as poofy as cotton candy and her lips a vibrant pink as she flashed me a huge smile. “Well, aren’t you just as pretty as a picture? Where you from, darlin’?”

  I couldn’t help but smile back at her, taking in the gorgeous outfit of denim and rhinestones. “New York, actually,” I replied. “How about you?”

  “Oh, honey buns, every body ‘round these parts know that Dolly Parton is from Tennessee, deep in the Great Smokey Mountains. I’m just passing through on my way back to Nashville.”

  I was absolutely dazzled by this woman, who, while clearly not the real Dolly Parton, at probably six feet two inches tall, was an absolute joy to behold.

  I wasn’t the only one dazzled by her, either. As I watched, tourists of all ages stopped in their tracks and asked Dolly for a picture. She smiled and posed and laughed her tinkling laugh as folks lined up for photos at five dollars a pop. It was amazing to see how just being in her presence could make people happy - and open their wallets.

  And it gave me an idea.

  “Nashville? Tell me, Miss Parton. Do you, by any chance, sing?”

  Dolly smirked at me, her prominent Adam’s apple bobbing as she laughed. “Darlin’,” she sassed, cocking out a hip and flashing me a wink. “I may not be able to croon like the original, but I can lip sync with the best of them. And I promise you, no one shakes their bazooms like I do,” she added with a shimmy, causing her rhinestone encrusted breasts to bounce and sparkle in the desert sunshine.

  I laughed, loving every moment I was spending with this glorious woman. “Well, Dolly, I’ll tell you what; if you are interested, and if you have any friends who might wanna tag along, I just might have an opportunity for you to shake and shimmy those bazooms for a crowd.”

  Dolly’s eyes widened, then another smile spread across her painted face. “Alright then, sweet potato. You let me make some phone calls and I’ll have you a whole troop of fabulous women who will knock your socks off.”

  “If they’re even half as amazing as you are, I have no doubt!”

  * * * *

  It was just before five when I headed back to the house. I had met with the photographer and made arrangements for her to come to the hotel in a few days to start preliminary teaser shots. I then located a local printer who would be perfect for printing the promotional materials I wanted to start handing out shortly. I used the internet to find someone who would meet me later in the week to start setting up digital edits to use for our social media campaign, and then I walked to a Walgreen's and got some make up that didn’t cost an entire paycheck.

  I sent a message to Moira, telling her that I wouldn’t be back in the office for the rest of the day. I hadn’t heard a word from Stone, so I could only assume he was still working. I probably should have told him I wouldn’t be riding back to the house with him, but I didn’t want to be the one to attempt civility first. I had to hold my ground. He thought he could push me around and I needed to show him that I might not be uptown like him, but l am not a door mat either.

  I arranged a meeting with Carson Young for Friday, as well, and I was hopeful he would like my idea for the smallest theater. I had been contacted by Dolly, and from the sounds of it, she was going to have a multitude of ladies that I was confident Carson would love.

  When my taxi dropped me off back in Summerlin South, I was ecstatic to see my suitcase sitting on the porch, tattered, but finally arrived. I hauled it inside with me, rolling it to the base of the stairs before heading to the kitchen. I’d skipped lunch, too focused on accomplishing things today, and my stomach had been growling at me for an hour. As I opened the fridge, I heard a voice call from up the stairs.

  “Hey, Stone? You’re home early. Can you grab me a bottle of water? I’ve had a killer headache all day.”

  I turned to look as a gorgeous brunette walked into the kitchen, typing away on her phone at a million miles an hour, short shorts and a tank top on, her tanned stomach showing in the inch or so in between. She was stunning, and I couldn’t help but wonder how often Stone came to Las Vegas if he had a woman here who expected him home at a certain time.

  She came looked up from her phone and stopped short when she saw me.

  “Oh! You’re not Stone,” she said, tilting her head to the side and assessing me from head to toe.

  Why did women keep doing this to me? “Neither are you,” I replied, deadpan.

  “So, what are you doing here, then?” she asked boldly. “You don’t look like his typical booty call.” I crossed my arms over my chest, arching an eyebrow. Who did this chick think she was?

  “And I suppose you are?”

  At that she snorted. “God, I freakin’ hope not!” Moving forward, she extended her hand to me. “Hi. I’m Daphne Pennington.”

  Realization dawned, and I felt my cheeks turning crimson. Good grief, was I being possessive of Stone? Why? He was a jerk! A mean-spirited trust fund baby who talked to me like I was beneath his station.

  So what if he was the best looking guy I’d ever laid eyes on? That didn’t matter one bit.

  Yeah, I’d always been a terrible liar.

  More than that, I wanted to change the way the thought of me. I wanted to prove to him that it didn’t matter that my parents weren’t rich or that I went to school on a scholarship. I deserved to be here just as much as he did.

  Likely more.

  I blinked away that ridiculous train of thought and shook Daphne’s hand, remembering that when I thought it would be her that I was rooming with here, I hoped that we could be friends, or at least get a long. Stone and I certainly weren’t managing that, maybe I would have better luck with Daphne. “Hi, I’m Penelope Lund.”

  “Oh, right!” she exclaimed, suddenly excited. “You’re the one Constance was moaning about. I totally get it now.” Daphne smiled like the cat that got the cream.

  “Get what?” I queried hesitantly. Maybe I didn’t want to know what she and Constance thought about me and my chances of earning the VP position.

  “Why Constance is shaking in her boots,” Daphne chortled, laughing uproariously. “She should be scared. Toddrick is as useless as an ejection seat on a helicopter!”

  Picturing that, I laughed softly. “I highly doubt Constance is concerned about me. Toddrick may be useless, but she is still a Pennington. I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole competition thing is just a big joke.” I couldn’t help but let my bitterness and self doubt show a bit.

  “I don’t think so,” Daphne said, moving to the fridge and retrieving the bottle of water she was asking for earlier. I looked around for some food idly, not really hungry anymore. My stomach was in knots thinking about the slim chance I had of getting the promotion and making life easier on my mother. “My father may be a lot of things, but he is not a fool. Putting Toddrick in an important position just to please my uptight sister would not be a great move for his business.”

  “But every
one knows he wants to keep the company in the family. If not Toddrick and Constance, then…” but I trailed off. Of course. How could I have been so blind?

  Stone. The secret Pennington. That was the goal all along; to have Stone take over Pennington Hotels. That meant that no matter how I did in the next four months, he was likely going to be my boss in the end regardless.

  And he hated me.

  Daphne looked at me, concern on her face. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

  Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “Nothing. I just realized that your brother was going to be my boss some day.” I glanced at her wryly. “He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

  “Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “Stone is really no one’s fan. He’s such a grouch.” She turned her back to the counter and hopped up, her bare legs dangling. “When we used to go to Texas to see him, he barely talked to us. It took forever for me to even get him to acknowledge I existed. The only reason he finally did is because we would make fun of Constance together.” Daphne laughed, shaking her head. “I remember one time, when I was like six, we were in Austin for the summer. Constance hated going down there, but I loved it. She had to come, because she wasn’t eighteen yet, and she was doing her best to make the whole trip as miserable as she was.

  “Anyway, dad always tried to engage Stone in family activities, but he was so angry, he wanted nothing to do with it. If it wasn’t for the fact that his mother asked him to, he would never have interacted with us at all. So we were out at the ranch where Stone and his mother lived, and Stone had me up on this horse. We’re walking around the corral, and I’m happy as a clam, but Constance is fuming. She’s sitting on the fence rail, reading some magazine, when this big old dog comes up behind her and starts barking like mad. Connie jerks and falls right off the fence rail face first in the mud.” Daphne throws her head back and cackles. “She was covered. Even had it in her ears!”

  I smile as I picture it, perfectly poised Constance Pennington face first in the dirt. “I bet that’s not the type of mud bath she was used to getting.” I laugh.

  “It sure wasn’t,” the evil grin on Daphne’s face told me everything I needed to know about her relationship with Constance. Perhaps we could be friends after all. “Anyway, as Connie was laying there, hollering her face off about how much she hated Texas and everyone in it, Stone and I were laughing our heads off. From that moment on, we’ve had an understanding. He may not be the most affectionate brother in the world, but I know he loves me. It’s just hard for him, you know? Growing up without dad around. Being thought of as the mistake.” Daphne looked away, her eyes growing distant as she got lost in her memories. “That’s what Connie and my mother always called him, even to his face as a kid. A mistake.” Daphne frowned, suddenly serious. I felt it too. The horrible way a little boy must have felt, being told these things by the women who were supposed to be his family. No wonder he was so defensive. He had probably spent his whole life deflecting emotional wounds.

  I stared out over the pool, remembering our encounter there yesterday, how he was so quick to snap at me. Even at the airport, he assumed I was out to get him before I even had a chance to do otherwise.

  As I watched the pool ripple in the desert wind, I thought that maybe I understood Stone Pennington just a little bit better now. And maybe I could forgive him for being so much of a jerk to me.

  Then the front door swung inward, Stone entered the house with another man by his side, and all my charitable thoughts went out the window when he opened his freaking mouth.

  “What the hell are you doin’ now, Blondie?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stone

  Watching Penelope walk away in the lobby, I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. I knew she’d been working hard all morning. I had practically been camped outside her office all day, constantly finding excuses to be where I could see her. I didn’t understand it.

  On one hand, she annoyed me so badly, I wanted to throw things, with her fancy clothes and her New York attitude, she was everything I hated about that town.

  But on the other hand, she was sassy and fiery and didn't take any shit. She stood up to me no matter how hard I pushed. I liked that. I was so sick of people always scrapin’ and kissin’ my ass. It was part of the reason why I didn’t use the Pennington name. If it was this bad when they thought I was a Montgomery, imagine how ridiculous it would be if they knew it was my name on the front of all the buildings?

  Then there was the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about how damn gorgeous she was. Those big blue eyes and all that golden hair she kept trapped in a bun like some school teacher. Even when I was fumin’ mad because she was getting under my skin, I still couldn’t stop picturing diggin’ my fingers into that hair and holding tight while I kissed her.

  And what the hell was that shit? There was no way I was gonna be kissing her. For one, she was a New Yorker, and I wouldn’t kiss her on principle alone. And for another, she worked for the company. After seeing the aftermath of my parents doomed affair, there was no way in hell I was getting involved with someone who worked for me. Absolutely not.

  Standing in the lobby, I watched and waited as the work trucks came and went from the parking lot. Silas had messaged me a few minutes ago, saying he was in a taxi and on his way to the hotel site. It would be damn good to have him here.

  As I stood there, I couldn’t help but notice that several women kept walking to and fro, flitting about like little birds. I would see them staring out the corner of my eye, and when I turned to look, they would avert their eyes and move along quickly. I turned to look into the room where they gathered. It was the main business office and call center. All the incoming calls and packages came through there, then were forwarded to the appropriate department. There were about half a dozen women employed there, and the were all staring at me like I was a zoo exhibit. What the hell was going on?

  I forgot all about them when the door opened and my best friend walked in. Silas was dressed as he usually was, in jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. He had his hair freshly cut, still according to army regulations, and he wore aviator sunglasses, his black duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  He entered the lobby, looking around until he spotted me, then pulled off his sunglasses and gave me a mocking smile. “Well, look at you, all suited and booted. I hardly recognized you, looking all big city like you are.” He exaggerated his Texas accent for effect, and I scowled at him.

  “Yeah, you keep talking like that, you’ll have to find yourself another place to stay. I don’t have room in my house for mouthy bastards like you,” I attempted to keep my scowl, but I couldn’t hide the jest underneath.

  Silas boomed out a laugh and dropped his bag, grasping my outstretched hand, pulling me in for a hard slap on the back. “Good to see you, man. Looks like Vegas is treating you well.”

  As we released each other, I heard a round of giggles coming from the call center. Looking over my shoulder, all of the women were staring openly, dreamy looks on their faces. Silas and I shared a confused look, then headed for the truck. The girls all strained to watch us go.

  Bizarre.

  “I know you probably want to jump right in and get to work,” I said, knowing my friend well enough by now to know he prided himself on his work ethic. “But I thought we could grab a late lunch. I have a few things I’d like to talk about.”

  “Uh oh,” Si said, climbing in the passenger seat with much more ease that Penelope had this morning. “Sounds like you have a Harold problem.”

  I frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Stone, in all the years I’ve known you, the only time you ever want to have a serious conversation is if it’s about your father.”

  “That’s not true,” I insisted, even though it probably was. Even work conversations weren’t as dire as the discussions Silas and I had had about Harold Pennington. I guided the truck down the side streets, getting us to the restaurant I wanted with as little
traffic as I could manage. It wasn’t far, but I didn’t think we would be going back to the office today, so I brought the truck.

  I had another moment of guilt over giving Penelope shit about ducking out early when that was exactly what I was doing now. Christ, I really was an ass.

  “It is and you know it,” Silas said, laughing. “Dude, if you had any more daddy issues, you’d be a stripper!”

  “Fuck off,” I said, but laughed anyway. “Besides, this isn’t about Harold. Well, not directly.”

  “It’s not?” Silas looked skeptical. He stared at me for a moment, then his eyes went wide. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  “What,” I said cautiously.

  “It’s a woman.”

  “No.” I was immediately defensive. “It’s a work thing.” It happened to be about a woman I worked with, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

  “Bullshit. This is a woman problem.” Silas had a smug grin on his face.

  “It’s a problem with a woman at work, yes,” I tried, but he wasn’t buying it.

  “Stone Pennington. I’ll be damned. You caught some feelings here in Sin City?”

  “Absolutely not,” I insisted, probably too quickly. “I haven’t even been here two days.” He just laughed.

  “Oh, just wait until your mama hears. She’s gonna be over the moon. She’s been waitin’ on you to settle down for ages, boy.”

  “Don’t you dare tell my ma nothin’! She’ll start planning a wedding, for Christ’s sake.” This conversation was going all wrong. I parked the truck and turned off the engine, turning to my friend and just coming out with it. “There is a woman working on this project. She’s a walking disaster. Harold has her staying at the house with me.”