Kiss the Cowboy

by Julie Jarnagin

  Lucy's life had been under control before Dylan had shown up. Sure, things weren't perfect with her family or her career, but she'd finally been figuring out her place among them. With Dylan in the way, things were spiraling out of her control, and she didn't like the fall.

  Nana was on the other end of the room with a middle-aged man in what appeared to be a toupee.

  The instructor came between Lucy and Dylan and put a hand on each of their arms. "Closed position, please."

  Lucy shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what that means."

  The man let out a loud laugh that echoed through the room. He took her hand in his and placed his other one on her shoulder. "Like this." He pulled her in Dylan's direction. "Now you two," he said before walking back to the front of the room.

  Dylan faced her and waited for her to make the first move.

  She held a hand out to him.

  Without so much as a smile or a nod, he slipped his arm under hers. His body was rigid, and though they were touching, the divide between them was undeniable.

  The instructor moved to the mirrors. "Now, we're all going to move together." He grabbed the woman in the dress and tights. "Step forward and rock back," he said demonstrating. "One, two three...five, six seven. Fast, fast, slow. Fast, fast, slow. Everyone now."

  The man shot them a look, and they both obediently began moving.

  "Very good. Very good," he said.

  Dylan was so much taller than she that it left her staring at his shirt, at a disadvantage she didn't like.

  Nana's laugh floated over the music as she shook her hips with her partner.

  Lucy nodded down at their feet. "Have you ever done this before?"

  He cocked an eyebrow. "What? Latin ballroom lessons?" His tone was terse.

  Bad enough being forced to dance, but being forced to dance with Dylan as he seethed at her was proving to be as painful as the heels she'd worn at Nana's fundraiser.

  If her whole life wasn't riding on this stupid job, she'd just walk away. As it was, she and Dylan were going to have to figure out a way to work together. Now she wasn't just risking embarrassing herself in front of the wedding guests and J.T. Shaw, but every reader of the Long Star Monthly. This wedding could make or destroy her reputation.

  She looked up and tried again, keeping her tone light. "Any kind of dancing?"

  "Two step and some slow songs. That's about it."

  "Use your hips," the instructor yelled like a drill sergeant.

  They both ignored him and continued stepping back in forth. She felt as stiff as a cutting board. She didn't know which was more ridiculous, the thought of her trying to shake her hips or of Dylan shaking his.

  Dylan's chest rose and fell. "So...you tried to get me fired?"

  She looked back at her feet, refusing to let the remorse creep into her voice. "I thought it would be for the best."

  "Selling me out?"

  Her feet flubbed. "Now that Lone Star Monthly is covering it, it's even more important that there is a consistent vision for the wedding."

  The instructor clapped his hands again. "All the beginners in the room should continue practicing the on-one step. For everyone else, let's work on turns."

  "Lone Star Monthly? What's that?"

  Lucy tried to concentrate on her steps. Fast, fast, slow. Fast, fast, slow. "A magazine. They cover food, culture, and arts in Texas."

  Dylan never missed a beat. "Sounds like a big deal."

  It annoyed Lucy how easily the steps were coming to him. "It is."

  Nana let out a big "wheeee" as her partner moved her out in front and they shook across the floor.

  "And you were afraid I was going to embarrass you."

  Her heart sped. Fast, fast, slow. Fast, fast, slow. "Honestly, I didn't even know about the magazine feature until after I'd talked to Heather about doing the reception on my own."

  The instructor circled them like a shark. "Move your hips more. This is salsa, not the waltz. It is a sensual dance."

  Sensual? Cooking caramel sauce in Dylan's kitchen had been sensual. Having him hold her under the stars had been sensual. Being in this florescent-lit room under the watchful eye of Nana was clumsy and uncomfortable.

  When the man left, Dylan stared down at her. "Then why did you do it, Lucy?"

  "I was only doing what I needed to do to protect myself against you. Don't forget that you went to J.T. Shaw behind my back."

  Hurt burned in his gaze. "Protect yourself against me, huh?"

  She swallowed the emotion building in her chest.

  The instructor tugged at her shoulders. "Spine straight. Shoulders back. Chin up."

  Her face burning, she jutted her chin up.

  Dylan kept moving his feet. "I'm sorry about everything with J.T. and the restaurant. But I've turned down a lot of opportunities in my life, and I don't want to be a ranch hand forever."

  He was doing what he had to do to succeed. Just like Reed. Just like her father. Just like anyone who wanted to get ahead, and that's what she needed to concentrate on from here on out. "Fine. We'll focus on the food. Keep things professional."

  He glanced toward the instructor who was now shaking his pelvis with Nana. "I'd say being able to keep things professional went out the window the day Nana showed up."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dylan opened the dutch oven with the lid lifter and bent to stir the stew. Laughter floated from the long back porch, which was lined with rocking chairs. In front of the porch was a flagstone pool surrounded by tiki torches. Clear lights twinkled overhead. It was a nice night for an anniversary party for the orthopedic surgeon and his wife, but Dylan wasn't in much of a party mood. He'd felt like a fool at that dance studio. Before yesterday, he would have loved the chance to dance with Lucy, to have any excuse to wrap his arms around her. But then Nana dropped the bomb. Lucy'd tried to get him fired. Here he'd been considering giving up the restaurant job to make her happy, and all the while, he didn't mean anything to her. He was simply the man standing in the way of her dreams.

  Dylan had let his guard down with Lucy, and it had almost cost him his chance at being in charge of his own fate for once.

  A long shadow fell over his fire. "Something smells good."

  He looked up to find Wyatt standing over him.

  Dylan stood and dusted off his jeans. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

  He pointed a thumb at the hill-country-style house. "The doc has put me back together so many times I probably paid for the down payment on this place."

  Dylan nodded at the campfire he'd built hours before. "Can I get you some grub? Stew, biscuits, a cup of coffee."

  "Nah. I'm good."

  "Watching your weight before the big day," Dylan asked.

  Wyatt didn't laugh. He just removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "There may not be a wedding."

  Dylan stiffened. "Why not?" The wedding was only ten days away.

  The wind picked up, and the canopy behind him danced. "Heather and I had a fight. About the stupidest thing too."

  Dylan was silent, waiting for the rest of the story.

  Wyatt shook his head. "Everything was fine the night before, and all of the sudden she started saying that if we weren't even able to agree on a single caterer for the wedding, we'd never be able to agree on anything in our marriage. Then she started talking about how I was going to end up resenting her. It doesn't make any sense. I don't know what happened."

  Dylan knew exactly what had happened. Lucy. "So, what did you say?"

  "I told her that we had to learn to compromise, just like you and I talked about."

  Dylan should have kept his big mouth shut. He was the last person who should be giving out relationship advice. "How'd she take it?"

  Wyatt kicked the ground with the toe of his boot. "She freaked out on me. Started crying. Said that if I really loved her, I'd understand."

  "Whoa."

  "I know. I'm pretty sure it's not the food she's really mad about,
but I don't know how to fix this. I'm in over my head. How am I supposed to keep a girl like Heather happy? I'm already screwing it up, and we're not even married yet."

  Dylan didn't know what to say. He'd been in the same position with Annie, and it had ended in a disaster. It had ended in her finding the kind of man she wanted all along. He didn't want to see that happen to Wyatt. "You'll work it out. You're crazy about her, and she's crazy about you." But his words sounded insincere.

  "I've already turned my entire life upside down for her, and I would do it again in a second."

  Dylan's stomach burned. Did Heather not think Wyatt was enough? Dylan knew too well what it was like to not measure up. First with Annie and now with Lucy.

  "You've got to help me." Wyatt's forehead was pinched.

  "I'd like to fix this for you, but I'm probably the least qualified man for the job."

  Wyatt stepped toward him. "No, you're the perfect person to do this. She doesn't like any of my buddies from the circuit, but she likes you. She said you were endearing."

  Endearing? "Makes me sound like a Labrador."

  "Women trust you. They believe what you say. Not to mention, I don't have anyone else to ask."

  "Since you put it that way..."

  The doctor's wife waved at Dylan from the side of the pool and headed toward him.

  "I'm serious," Wyatt said, desperation in his voice. "I need you to do this for me."

  The woman walked between them and lifted her huge sunglasses from her face. "If you're ready, I think it would be a good time to serve dinner."

  Dylan nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He handed her the cast iron striker and nodded at the triangle dinner bell hanging from the chuck wagon. "Would you like to do the honors?"

  She laughed. "Why not?"

  Wyatt stood beside him, watching the doctor's wife stand on her tiptoes as she rang the bell for dinner. "So? What do you say?"

  "I'll see what I can do."

  #

  Lucy slid the hangers across the clearance rack at the back of the boutique. She lifted a red tag hanging from a floral print skirt and determined that the word boutique must mean overpriced in French. For that amount of money, she could buy a new stand mixer from Williams Sonoma.

  Paige was in the dressing room trying on another cocktail dress. "What happened?" Lucy called out. "Did you get stuck in that last one?"

  "Sorry," Paige said from the other side of the curtain. "I was checking my phone again. I'm worried about Heather. I got a text from her saying she wanted to cancel the final fittings for the bridesmaid dresses and the meeting to approve the flower arrangements."

  Lucy leaned her shoulder against the wall. She hadn't spoken to Heather since the day of the dress fitting. She needed to call and apologize for trying to talk her out of using Dylan. "Maybe she's just busy."

  Paige stepped out of the dressing room in a body-hugging red dress. "I've left her three voicemails, but she isn't returning my calls."

  Lucy straightened. "That one looks great on you."

  Pulling at the thin straps, her brow wrinkled. "You think?"

  "You should definitely go with that one." Really, any of the dozen she'd already tried on would work. They'd been in the store for an hour, and Lucy's stomach was growling.

  Paige turned to the floor-length mirror. "I don't know. Maybe you should try this one. The red would really pop with your dark hair."

  Lucy shook her head.

  It was the third time her stepsister had tried to convince her to put on one of the pricey dresses. "Is this shopping trip just an attempt to get me to buy some new clothes?"

  Paige's pink lips twisted to one side. "Not entirely."

  She should have known something was up when Paige asked her to help choose a new dress for her date this weekend. Paige didn't need her opinion. Paige was always giving her fashion advice—even when she didn't want it. "I can't cook in clothes like these."

  Paige rolled her eyes and went back into the dressing room, where dresses hung from every rod and hook. "There is more to life than food, Lucy."

  Maybe things would be simpler if there weren't. She needed a recipe for her life about now. "Besides if I ever have to wear a dress, I'll borrow it from your closet."

  "Exactly," Paige said, her voice muffled as she changed clothes. "You need to get some things of your own." She stepped out wearing her own skirt and top and pushed the dress into Lucy's hands. "Humor me."

  Lucy sighed and took the dress. "Fine. I'll put it on, if you'll promise we can eat as soon as I'm done."

  "Deal."

  After Lucy had squeezed into the red dress, she examined it in the dressing room mirror. "Throw on a pair of four-inch heels, and this would be perfect for grocery shopping."

  Paige didn't respond.

  "Are you still out there?" She stepped out from behind the drape to find Dylan standing beside a sheepish looking Paige. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. "What are you doing here?"

  "Don't kill me," Paige blurted out. "He called earlier and wanted to talk to both of us about the wedding. I told him we'd be here."

  With his blue eyes fixed on her, she couldn't help but remember the way he looked at her before he kissed her the other night. Ugh! Why couldn't she just forget about that kiss?

  "You look great."

  Lucy wrapped her arm across her middle, suddenly feeling exposed in the tight dress and bare feet. "Thanks," she said quietly and turned back to Paige. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"

  Dylan stepped forward. "I called her, and when she said she was with you, I came down. This is important."

  She let her shoulders droop. "What is it?"

  He glanced at Paige. "Heather's having second thoughts about the wedding."

  Paige groaned. "See. I told you something was up."

  Lucy's stomach dropped, and she sat on the huge leopard ottoman. "You don't think it has anything to do with what I said at the fitting, do you?"

  Dylan sat beside her. "It doesn't matter why, but we'll fix it...together. We're going to show her that they're great together."

  She shook her head. "How are we going to do that?"

  His mouth cocked into a smile. "Through their stomachs—of course."

  Chapter Nineteen

  The match sizzled as Dylan lit two candles on the small round table in the center of the big empty room. He glanced at Lucy as she filled glasses with bottled water. Cooking with her this afternoon had felt natural. Neither of them had mentioned any of the things that always seemed to come between them.

  With the darkness outside, the tall floor-to-ceiling windows in the art museum's ballroom reflected the display they'd put together for Heather and Wyatt. In the center of the room stood a table for two covered with a white tablecloth and set with fine china and silver. A dozen red roses added a little splash of color and a floral scent. He wasn't so great with the romance, but he thought they'd nailed it.

  Her hands on her hips, Lucy stepped back and surveyed their work. "So you really think this is going to work?"

  "Sure it will." It had to. Dylan didn't have a backup plan. But considering he'd never been able to solve his own romantic problems, no matter how hard he tried, it seemed impossible that he might be able to fix Wyatt's.

  "Look at this," Wyatt called from the doorway. He wore starched jeans with a sports jacket and cowboy hat. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

  Dylan met him across the room. "Looking sharp. You ready for this?"

  He gave a short nod. "Definitely."

  But there was something in his friend's eyes that he'd never seen when he'd been on the back of a bull—fear.

  Wyatt walked to the table and let out a long whistle. "How did you two manage to pull this off?"

  Lucy shrugged. "When we found out you and Heather first met here, Paige made some calls for us. She has booked several weddings here, and the events directors was in the same sorority as Heather."

  "Well, however you did it, I appreciate it." Wyatt rubb
ed the back of his neck. "Now we just need her to show."

  Dylan slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. She'll be here."

  Before the words left his mouth, the sound of high heels clicked from outside the room. Heather stepped inside, her cheeks flushed and her hair windblown.

  "Heather," Wyatt said, his voice full of relief. "You came."

  With a quick nod, her gaze lingered on Wyatt and then moved to the table. "What's all this?"

  Dylan pulled out a chair and held out a menu Lucy had printed on her computer. "Take a look."

  Heather slowly lowered herself into the chair, and Wyatt followed.

  Lucy clasped her hands in front of her. "We're serving the menu we created for the wedding." Her gaze met Dylan's. "We finally came up with something that we think is the perfect combination of your sophistication and Wyatt's down-to-earth style."

  Once he and Lucy had started bouncing ideas back and forth between them, the menu had come easily. It included pork tenderloin stuffed with spinach, mushrooms, and gorgonzola with a port wine sauce, sweet potato and caramelized onion tarts, and spiced pear bread pudding. "Just like this meal, the two of you are the perfect fusion of two worlds."

  Lucy removed the covers from the two salads. "Here's your first course with arugula, roasted red peppers, red onions, and a jalapeno vinaigrette."

  "We'll leave y'all to it for a bit," Dylan said. "We'll be back with the next course in a few."

  They headed to the kitchen, where they would plate the rest of the meal they'd brought from their day of cooking in Lucy's little kitchen.

  He watched as her lip slid through her teeth.

  "You okay?" He held the swinging kitchen door open and nodded for her to walk through.

  She glanced back where the couple was sitting in silence before stepping into the kitchen. "I feel terrible."

  "I don't understand."

  Lucy's face was pinched. "I'm responsible for this whole mess. I shouldn't have let my own stuff get in the way of their wedding. I was scared I'd lose my chance to prove myself. I shouldn't have said anything to Heather."

  "No need to punish yourself over it. You never meant to cause any trouble between them."