The Cowboy and the Bombshell

by Dove Cavanaugh King

  “You two are already livin’ together!” Silas snorted, clapping his hands. “Oh, this just gets better and better.”

  “Not like that, you moron. Harold set her up at the house but she thought she’d be staying with my sister. She’s, I don’t know, she’s a mess and she’s beautiful and she hates me already, and she’s… she’s from New York.”

  “Ah,” my friend nodded sagely. “There it is.”

  I frowned again. “There what is?”

  “The thing holding you back about this girl. She’s from New York, so in your mind, she automatically the devil incarnate.”

  “That’s not true,” I protested again. But it was. I knew it was.

  “Stone, man, when are you gonna wake up and realize that Harold did the best he could by you. The best that you would allow him to do.” Silas shook his head. I knew he saw my situation differently. His own family had been a mess, with a mother that left when he was little and a father who liked to get drunk and knock him and his brothers around. As far as he was concerned, Harold had offered me a golden ticket time and time again, and I had foolishly refused it.

  And maybe he was right, but that didn’t mean my concerns about Penelope weren’t valid. Although, I was having a harder and harder time believing them myself.

  We headed into the restaurant and got a seat. It was a middle of the road place, but their Yelp reviews said they served good steak, so I figured it was the place for us. After ordering our meals and a couple of beers, Silas started in again.

  “So, aside from being an evil New Yorker, what is it about this girl that’s got your tail in a twist?”

  I took a deep breath. “She is just constantly getting under my skin, ya know? Like, she’s always in the way, interrupting me at meetings and questioning my decisions. It’s inappropriate.” God, I even sounded like an asshole to myself.

  “Is she wrong?” Silas asked easily.

  “What?” I said, thrown by his question.

  “When she questions your decisions, is she wrong?”

  I swallowed, feeling like a complete heel. “Well, not my decisions, exactly. But she questioned the theme of the hotel. I think the old west theme is perfect, but she wanted something slick and more big city.”

  “So she didn’t so much question you, as where you come from.” Silas stated, that smug grin back on his face. “You felt slighted by her opinion of your roots. Let me guess; you immediately took it out on her?”

  I sighed, remembering how I had cut her down in front of her colleagues. “Yeah. Shit.” I took another swig of my beer, rolling the bottle between my hands as I stared at the table.

  “And how did she respond to this verbal admonishment?” The ass was enjoying this.

  “She fired right back at me.” She had too, calling me out for being an asshole to her at the airport. She was right, but that was beside the point.

  “So, let me see if I have this right? This girl, she’s beautiful, smart, sharp, and she puts you in your place when you’re being a belligerent ass?”

  “Yes,” I ground out thought clenched teeth.

  Silas slapped his hand down on the table. “Well, shit, Stone. If you don’t want her, I sure as hell do. Any woman who can take what you dish out and give it back just as good has got to be one hell of a catch.”

  I narrowed my eyes at my friend, the thought of him and Penelope together making my jaw clench. He didn’t miss it, and it only made him laugh harder. “Oh, hell. You got it bad, boy.” He was saved from the beating I wanted to give him by the arrival of our food.

  Throughout the rest of our meal, I steered conversation away from Penelope and back toward the project. Silas was as excited about the theme as I was, and we reviewed some of the aspects of security he wanted to handle while construction was still happening, things like camera placement and emergency exits and the like. I told him he had complete control and that I would arrange a meeting with the head contractor as well as his staff tomorrow. Then we settled into regular bullshit conversation, the type we’d been having since high school.

  It was early evening when we headed for the house. Walking in, I heard Penelope’s laughter coming from the kitchen and immediately saw a suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

  What the hell? Was she inviting guests to the house? Without asking me?

  Then another thought hit me. Did this bag belong to her boyfriend? Some yuppie schmuck from SoHo or something. Some pale man-boy with a sweater vest and horn-rimmed glasses who insisted on eating vegan and drinking artisan beers.

  I hated him already. She could do better than that loser.

  Well, I’d show them. There was no way that asshat was gonna be staying in this house. She was here to work, not traipse around with her beatnik boy toy. He was taking his piece of shit suitcase and he was outta here. Tonight.

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

  Silas hissed quietly behind me. “What the fuck, Stone?” I ignored him. My anger was up and there was no stopping me.

  Penelope came into the foyer, a confused look on her face. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Montgomery?” she said, her tone docile, her eyes full of contempt.

  I pointed at her boyfriends busted up suit case. “Get that piece of shit out of here.” He needed to leave. Now.

  Penelope looked at the bag, confused. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. He needs to leave.” Silas stood beside me, shaking his head.

  “Who needs to leave?” Penelope asked, looking at Silas. “He’s your guest.”

  “What?” I said, and Silas looked at me, eye brow raised. Yeah, we were all confused. “Not him,” I hooked my thumb at Silas. “Him.” I said, again pointing at the bag.

  Penelope frowned. “My bag? Why? And why do you keep referring to it as ‘him’?”

  Now I was the one who was frowning. “Your bag?” There was no way. A New York girl would never have such a busted up suit case. Constance had always insisted on Louis Vuitton or some other smarmy brand. This thing looked like it was from the seventies, all worn brown leather and large buckles. There was no way this was Penelope’s.

  But as he walked over to it, I realized I was wrong. The tag hanging from the top was purple and had flowers all over it. “Yes,” she said, grasping the handle and pulling it away from me. “My bag. I Realize that it may not live up to your standards, but I would appreciate it if you would not give me any grief about it. It’s not any concern of yours.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, her face defiant, mine baffled. What the hell was going on?

  The tension was broken when Silas slapped me on the back, then moved past me toward Penelope, his hand extended. “Hello. I’m Silas Harrison, Security Manager for The Alamo.”

  Penelope faced Silas, a brilliant smile on her face. “Hello Mr. Harrison. Penelope Lund, marketing. A pleasure to meet you. Now,” she turned to me, a look of barely restrained violence thrown my way, “if you’ll both excuse me, I have to take my ‘piece of shit’ bag and go to my room. Good night, Silas,” she said politely, granting him another smile. It dropped from her face as she glared at me again. “Mr. Montgomery.” And with that, she heaved the bag up the stairs, stomping the whole way.

  Silas and I watched her go. When she was out of sight, he turned and punched me full force in the arm, my bicep going numb with the hit. “Ow! Shit, man. What the hell?”

  “What the hell, is right, you sorry fuck. What the hell was that?”

  Rubbing my arm, I put on my signature scowl. “Nothing.”

  “That girl didn’t deserve one ounce of the shit you just flung her way. You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

  He was right, the ass. But how could I tell him what went through my head? How could I possibly explain that at the sight of the ratty suitcase, my stupid brain had conjured up an entire scenario, spiraling me into a vortex of rage over a man who didn’t even exist? That just the thought of Penelope having a boyfriend had made me so a
ngry, I blew up at her again.

  I was so screwed over this girl. I knew it, but I still denied it.

  After all, the best lies were the ones we told ourselves.

  “That was me, wondering why she was having some sort of party in a house she doesn’t own.” I tried for believable, but Silas wasn’t buying it. He just shook his head at me in disappointment. To be fair, I was disappointed in myself, too. But I just got so mad when I heard Penelope laughing in the kitchen.

  Come to think of it, who the hell was in the kitchen anyway?

  Moving past Silas, I turned that way, stomping through the hall and entering the room prepared to take on any intruder in there.

  But a smile spread on my face at the sight of my half-sister, Daphne, perched on the counter top, staring at me like I was the worlds biggest moron.

  Yeah, there was a lot of that going around.

  “Well, hey there, big brother,” she said, shaking her head. “You about done beating your chest like a big old gorilla?” I laughed, moving to give her a hug. She opened her arms for me, but stopped when something over my shoulder caught her eye. She froze, eyebrows shooting up, her cheeks going pink, as she gazed at my friend as he entered the kitchen. Looking at Silas, I saw the same expression of amazement on his face as he took in my sister.

  Oh, hell no.

  Daphne and Silas hadn’t seen each other in over ten years. Apparently, a lot had changed since then.

  “Silas,” I barked, snapping him out of it. He cleared his throat, looking at me sheepishly. “You wanna close your mouth and come over here. I’m sure you remember, Daphne. My baby sister.” I said the words with enough emphasis that he immediately caught on. His face went blank, and he looked at Daphne as if she were any other person he had just met on the street. Good. That was another issue I didn't have time for. Daphne and I might not have been very close growing up, but there was still a code among best friends. Little sisters were off limits.

  Period.

  It hadn’t been an issue when we were kids. Silas was only a year younger than me, which still made him twelve years older than Daphne. But, apparently, that age gap was starting to matter less and less.

  Silas simply nodded his head and muttered, “Daphne.”

  Daphne frowned, looking from Silas to me and then back again. When she realized what had passed between he and I, she sighed, her shoulders falling, as she shook her head.

  “I guess I’ll just go up to bed myself,” she said as she jumped down from the counter, pushing past me.

  “What? Why?” I asked. “It’s still early, and we just got in.” I hadn’t seen her in months. I was looking forward to talking about her classes and UNLV.

  “Well, Stone, it may be early, but your baby sister needs her sleep.” she spat, making it clear I had pissed her off now too. “I’ll just go up and see how Penelope is doing. I think between the two of us, you’ve done enough damage for one night.” And with that she stormed off for the stairs.

  Silas and I watched her go. When she was out of sight, we both blew out a breath.

  This might just be the longest four months of my life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Penelope

  Glancing at the clock on the wall once more, I tried to swallow down my rising panic. Carson Young and Stone Pennington were staring at me, Stone with his usual stern scowl on his face, and Carson with a mixture of apprehension and discomfort on his.

  I couldn’t blame him. The tension in the room was practically choking me; I couldn’t imagine how Carson felt, not knowing the true cause.

  When I arranged to meet with Carson to discuss my idea for the final open theater space, I had assumed it would be just him and I. But when Stone found out I had organized something without telling him, he insisted on being a part of the meeting. And, because he’s my boss, I couldn’t very well tell him no.

  Stone and I had barely spoken since Tuesday evening, when he went nuclear on me for having an ugly suitcase. I was still not sure what it was about my bag that set him off, and since neither of us had wanted to initiate any actual conversation, it was unlikely I would ever actually find out.

  The one bright spot in my life had been Daphne. She was spending her evenings at the house, rather than her dorm room, and we had gotten to know each other pretty well considering it had been less than a week. She was bubbly and vivacious and I couldn’t help but smile when she was around.

  And, good grief, did I need some smiles.

  Living and working with Stone Pennington was absolutely exhausting. Avoiding him was even more so. I constantly felt like I was walking on egg shells, always trying to evade a confrontation. In the mornings we passed like strangers, moving from the coffee pot to the door without actually acknowledging the others existence. I started using Uber to the office because the thought of being in the vehicle alone with him for the twenty minutes it would take us to get from the house to the office was excruciating.

  If he cared about my change in my transportation, he hadn’t said anything.

  For his part, Stone has been avoiding spending time at the house as much as possible. He and Silas seemed to constantly have things to keep them occupied, leaving Daphne and I to spend some quality girl time together.

  I had found her really easy to talk to. She loved that we were both from New York, though very different versions of it, and we spent hours discussing our favorite places to hang out, shop, and eat. That was how I wound up telling her about my dad; we had been discussing Central Park, reminiscing over wine about what we missed the most. She said she missed weekend brunch at the Tavern on the Green. I’d never been there, but from the way she described the Eggs Benedict Florentine, it was more than outside my prince range. It was then that I mentioned the Central Park Zoo, my birthday tradition, and the loss of my father.

  I didn’t realize until that moment, but I never really talked about my dad to anyone but my mom. People have a strange reaction when you say you lost someone you love; they get uncomfortable. It changes the dynamic of your relationship irrevocably. They suddenly view you as vulnerable, a breakable thing that requires careful handling. I hated the pity in peoples faces when they learn about my father. The distant look in their eyes that tells me they want to leave the conversation, but weren’t sure how to do it without looking like a complete jerk.

  Daphne didn’t have that look. She smiled sweetly when I told her my fondest memories and stated that it was high time I got back to the zoo. She insisted that the moment we were both back in New York we would arrange a date and treat each other to our favorite Central Park experiences, brunch at the Tavern and a day at the zoo.

  It sounded lovely.

  I almost let myself believe it would happen.

  But I knew better. Daphne was lovely, but I knew our different lifestyles would separate us once I was done squatting in her father’s guest bedroom. Once I was back east, she would be in her borough and I would stay in mine.

  It was probably for the best.

  “Any chance you’ll actually start the meeting you called, Miss Lund?” Stone’s dry sarcasm drew me out of my musings. I frowned at him.

  “The meeting was between Mr. Young and myself, Mr. Montgomery,” I said, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt. “If you have something more pressing to attend to, please don’t let me keep you.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, eyes flashing with indignation and I braced myself for a cold reply, but a commotion in the hall brought him up short.

  “Wait,” I heard Moira’s voice, her tone strained. “You can’t just go in and-” The door burst open in a cloud of glitter and denim. I saw Stone and Carson’s jaws drop wide open, and a smile spread across my face.

  “Well, listen here, puddin’ pop,” drawled Dolly in her exaggerated country twang. “I can go any which way I please. Don’t you know who I am?”

  “It’s alright, Moira,” I interjected. “She’s with me.” Dolly smiled my way, her bright pink lips stretching wide.

>   “Hey there, pumpkin pie!” she gushed, her signature giggle filling the conference room. “Don’t you look a treat! Those shoes! They are to die for.” I flushed as Dolly fawned over my magenta pumps. It was the first day I was wearing them. I figured if they were going to work their magic, as my mother and her friends insisted, then today would be the day.

  Stone scoffed, his eye roll telling me everything I needed to know about his opinion of my shoes. I shot him a frown, then turned to Carson. “Mr. Young, may I introduce you to Dolly Parton. Dolly, this is Carson Young, entrainment and events manager for Pennington Hotels Las Vegas.” Dolly turned her brilliant smile on Carson, eying him up and down.

  “Hi there and hello, sugar. Aren’t you just a cute as a possum on prom night!”

  Carson stared open mouthed at Dolly, a bright pink flush creeping up his cheeks, not entirely sure what was going on. Stone’s face was a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

  What else was new?

  “Dolly,” I said, drawing her attention from Carson and intentionally failing to introduce Stone. “Thank you so much for joining us. If you please,” I gestured to the chair nearest me. Dolly sat, exaggerating every movement like a pin up girl, her extraordinarily long legs looking even longer in the short denim skirt and exceptionally high heeled shoes. She crossed her legs and settled back in the chair, looking every inch a Queen on her throne. I smiled again, then turned back to the two men sitting before me.

  “Gentlemen, I have been working with Dolly this week to develop a strategy for the final theater venue here at the hotel.”

  Stone immediately cut me off. “That’s not your job, Miss Lund. I believe Mr. Young is in charge of acquiring talent.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from replying in the way I truly wanted, and instead drew in a slow breath before responding to Stone’s unnecessarily sharp remark.

  “Yes, Mr. Montgomery, he is. However, after my discussion with him earlier this week, I was made aware that he had not secured an act for the small theater venue as of yet. When a chance encounter brought Dolly and I together, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Mr. Young may be in charge of acquiring talent, but my job is attracting visitors and their dollars. I believe Dolly will do that.”