CHAPTER THREE
Carlie opened her eyes. The inside of her mouth tasted like the floor of a brewery. Only fuzzier. “Where am I?” Sunlight shining through white flowing curtains forced her to squint. The pounding in her head only increased with the bright light. The light robin’s egg-blue walls and white furniture seemed like something out of Better Homes and Gardens. Certainly, not her bedroom, so whose? Had she gone home with someone and not remembered?
Only her clothes lay on the chair near the bed. No one else’s. Carlie ran her hand over the sheets next to her. Chilled, not warm from another body. A weight lifted off her chest. After saving herself for a special person, it’d have killed her to have lost her virginity in a night of drunken debauchery.
The smell of coffee and bacon slipped under the door. Her stomach grumbled. What had she done last night? The last thing she recalled was the dating auction and a pair of dark-chocolate-colored eyes. A knock sounded. “Yes?”
The door opened, and Angela walked in with a tray. Things clicked in her brain. She’d obviously been too drunk to drive home, so she’d spent the night at Angela’s. Nothing to worry about. A weight lifted off her shoulders.
“Good to see you’re awake. I thought you might be hungry.” Her friend set the food and drink on the nightstand then handed the mug to Carlie.
“Thank you for putting me up for the night and for breakfast. I overdid it with the drinks. You’re acting pretty chipper, while I feel like a bus ran me over. Care to fill me in?” She inhaled the sweet smell of coffee then took a sip.
Angela’s eyes twinkled, which Carlie had come to realize wasn’t a good thing. “You had a little too much to drink.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarcasm had always served her well, especially in dealing with her feelings. It helped hide her true emotions.
“You were high bidder on a date.” Angela sat on the edge of the bed. She grinned from ear to ear. It was the same smile her old high school friend used when she’d found a sale on Louis Vuitton shoes.
Angela cringed. “A date? Tell me it wasn’t the lame chef, Pierre. He hit on me when I went to the ladies’ room earlier in the night. He told me he’d make a special dinner just for us.”
“Ewww. No. Not Pierre. A picnic on horseback.” Angela’s hands twisted in her lap.
“Why do I feel like you are teasing me with details rather than spilling the whole deal? Cut to the chase.” Carlie placed the mug back on the nightstand.
Angela squealed. “You paid five thousand dollars for the date.”
“Whoa, that’s a lot for a picnic.” Carlie’s stomach churned. She’d grown up with money and easily dropped more than that amount on a special dinner. But, this time, she had no recollection of the event. I’m not drinking again. Things could have ended so much worse. Like trying to keep Pierre’s paws off me. She noticed her friend’s crestfallen expression.
“It was a lot of money. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what it might cost you.”
“Angela, I’m good for the money. I have it. Remember, I mentioned my grandparents’ inheritance? I’ve been more concerned about what might have happened because I can’t remember the night after all the seven and sevens.” Carlie forced a smile. She didn’t know if she’d made things worse or not.
“Are you sure?” Angela’s voice held a note of hope. At Carlie’s nod, her friend wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. “With your donation, we went over our goal. Thank you so much. You’ve helped so many people.”
Carlie relaxed further. Had Angela been afraid she’d back out? “I hope there’s not more I don’t remember, like a little dance number on the table.” Shaking the stray fears from her brain, Carlie focused on Angela. “I’m glad to do it.” She giggled. “I’ll put it on Dad’s credit card. Would serve him right. The only horses he likes are his polo ponies and the ones running in the Kentucky Derby. One year, he made us all go, and I was forced to wear some oversized hat. It was like balancing a chicken on my head.”
Angela snickered. “Photos? I’d love to have something to hold over your head.”
Carlie shook her head. “Not on your life.”
Her friend stood and headed for the door. She paused and pointed toward the food. “Finish your breakfast. You’ll feel better after getting something in your stomach, especially after you threw up at the event last night.”
Her heart sank as she felt her cheeks heat. “Oh no. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself with the drinking. No one would hire me to teach their children to dance.”
“No worries. Marcus carried you to the bathroom and even held your hair. He was kind enough to bring you here when you passed out in his arms.”
“Is Marcus the nice gentleman who’s always at the café?” A sudden pang hit her stomach. To have someone else witness her behavior at its worst. How would she be able to face him again?
“Nope. Marcus is your date.”
***
Marcus woke with the sun after a night of heated dreams. He’d cut out of the auction event early to bring his winning bidder to Angela’s house. Carrying the beautiful blonde hadn’t been a problem. After she’d gotten sick, she’d passed out again with her hands clenched in his shirt, as cute as a small child wrapped in her favorite blanket. Nope, leaving hadn’t been a problem at all.
He’d enjoyed Pierre’s grimace when Marcus strode by him with the blonde in his arms. No longer the jovial winner, Pierre appeared positively menacing, as if a little storm cloud would appear over his head.
Sleep had eluded him at first. He recalled every moment spent with the beautiful woman. The feel of her hair in his hands, the smell of roses on her skin, and the light blue of her eyes. If only he’d thought to get her name. But he’d rectify that when he called Angela later. No rush. The little mystery proved exciting. Used to having women seeking him out during each of his NPR events, he’d grown tired of the buckle bunnies and rodeo groupies. They were only hoping to score by saying they’d slept with a champion, or they were women trying to force him into marriage through an unplanned pregnancy.
Once he fell asleep, dreams of his blonde vixen kept him hard and aching. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up with a boner, but it’d been a while. Having a woman whose eyes didn’t light up in recognition was a welcome change. He’d felt protective of the beauty.
Even with the lack of sleep, energy filled Marcus. Taking advantage of the beautiful weather, he’d hoped to get in some practice before calling Angela for the woman’s name and number. Finally, he’d needed to arrange for the date. A sizzle shot up his spine at the thought of seeing the blonde again. Would she recall last night?
With a quick shower and coffee out of the way, Marcus hopped into his truck to visit his buddy, Trey Arking. Marcus needed some practice on real bulls before the upcoming TBC competition in Dallas. Trey had been one of the best pro-bull riders until an ornery bull cost him the use of his legs. But he’d used his knowledge and contacts in the sport to become a supplier for some of TBC’s award-winning bulls. These cranky animals challenged their riders with spins and jumps designed to toss an average rider in the dirt. Only through instinct, skill, and perseverance could a rider hope to stay on these bulls eight seconds.
***
After finishing breakfast, Carlie donned the dress she’d worn last night. The smell of alcohol and vomit clung to the fabric, but she didn’t have another outfit to put on. Unwilling to ask Angela for anything more, Carlie had her friend drop her off at the event hall to pick up her car before heading back to her apartment for that shower she so desperately needed.
Forced to park a block away, she strolled down the sidewalk and kept her head down. She didn’t want anyone to notice her out at eleven a.m. with last night’s dress on. Small town residents’ gossip, and she didn’t need to be today’s news.
Fumbling with her clutch, Carlie struggled to find her keys in the bottom of the bag. She blew the hair off her forehead as she searched, frustrated to stand o
n the street for a moment longer.
“Do you need help?” A deep voice penetrated her search.
“Eek.” Carlie dropped her purse as she spun and gaped at the cowboy next to her. Wearing a Western shirt and jeans, he appeared like he’d walked off the big screen from a classic Clint Eastwood Western. Standing a few inches taller than her even with her high heels on, the man didn’t appear menacing.
“Here, let me get that.” When he picked up her bag she couldn’t help but notice the roughness of his hands. This wasn’t a dime-store cowboy, but the real thing. He opened her purse and tugged out the keys then handed them to her. “I believe you were looking for these.”
“Thank you, Mr…”
He removed the hat from his head and smiled. “Marcus Wilson.”
Carlie studied the messy curls atop his head. He seems familiar. Where have I seen him? She racked her brain. Moving her gaze lower, she noted his chocolate-colored eyes. They were from her dream last night. “Have we met?”
He scrunched his hat in his hands. “Not formally. But I caught you when you passed out last night and helped you when you were sick.”
Her face heated. Knowing she’d have to see him up close and personal at some point, Carlie had hoped she’d have been more composed than this. Caught off guard, she dropped her gaze to her toes. “I’m sorry you saw me at my worst. Thank you for all your help. Angela told me about it. I’m Carlie Fulton. Would you like to come in while I get cleaned up? I’d love to buy you lunch to compensate you.”
He grinned. “That’s not necessary. But I’d be silly not to take you up on lunch.”
She returned his smile, instantly feeling better. Carlie unlocked her door and swung it open. “Welcome to my home.” As she climbed the twenty steps to her loft, her heart felt lighter than it had in days.
CHAPTER FOUR
It’d been happenstance that he’d run into Carlie. Marcus had been heading to Café French to see if Angela would give him the mystery woman’s name. Then he’d spied her purple dress and gorgeous blonde hair. Fate had stepped up, giving him exactly what he wanted. Now, he sat on her couch, waiting for her to shower and change.
Listening to the water running and thinking of Carlie in the shower, Marcus adjusted his too-tight jeans. He hungered to join her under the warm spray, but he wanted to get to know her better first. She was more important to him than a one-night stand. In their less-than-ten minute conversation, she’d delighted him, from her blushes to her accent.
The sound of the water stopped. He imagined her towel running over her luscious body as she dried her skin. Unable to sit for a minute more, Marcus stood and strolled around. High ceilings with track lighting gave a warm ambiance and provided a homey feeling. Double sliding doors allowed breezes to flow into the loft from the balcony. The open area operated as a living room, bedroom, and dining room. His gaze paused on the king-sized bed occupying the space at the rear of the flat. An instant wave of desire flooded him at the thought of her naked and wrapped around him. Her eyes glazed with passion as she called out his name.
Marcus rolled his shoulders then turned his back on the bed, determined to put it out of his mind. With its high-end modern furniture, from the concrete and wood table with colorful molded chairs to the red leather sofa, the entire place screamed money, not small-town life. Who is Carlie, and what brings her to Colorado?
“Are you ready?”
Marcus’s heart sped up as he spied her. Wearing white slacks and a turquoise-blue sleeveless polo shirt, she could have stepped off the movie screen. “Wow. So beautiful.” She shyly smiled then glanced down. “Doesn’t anyone tell you?”
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “I hear it all the time, but I never believed it until today. Everyone else had an agenda for their comment. They wanted something.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe that. But we can talk about how crazy it is over lunch. I’m starving.”
Carlie grabbed her purse and keys then headed down the stairs. Marcus followed, trying to keep his gaze off her heart-shaped ass. The white pants molded to her body showed off her long legs and rounded hips. No panty lines. He ached to find out if she wore any. He chided himself then started up a conversation to take his mind off her sexy body. “Where do you want to eat?”
“How about we stop at Café French? It’s close, and they have the best sandwiches.” Her voice echoed up the stairs.
“Sounds good. Here, let me.” Marcus opened the door for her then held out his arm. As she slipped hers into his, she smiled.
“Outside or in?” He nodded toward the bistro tables decorating a side alley eating area.
“Let’s eat outside. With the low humidity and beautiful sunshine, we might as well make use of this good weather. Last week, we had such high heat and humidity, I actually wished for the cold snowy winters of New York. But it was a momentary weakness, nothing serious.” She chuckled.
He held out a chair, she sat down then Marcus took the seat next to her. He laid his Stetson on the remaining chair. “I thought I detected an accent.” Handing her the menu, he glanced at his own.
“Accent? Have you heard yourself?” She laughed. “Texas twang for sure.”
“Can I assume from your earlier comment that you lived in New York? What did you do there?”
“Yes. I’m a born and raised New Yorker. We had a flat in Manhattan and an estate upstate. I was a dancer on Broadway for a few shows like Hello Dolly and Kinky Boots.”
“That explains your long legs.” He spoke before he could think. “I’m sure you were a wonderful dancer to get a job on Broadway. What do you miss most about New York?”
“I miss the ease of getting whatever you want. I could walk two blocks and find the most delicious bagel and lox or the Jimmy Choo shoe outlet. Other than this place and Daisy’s, food is limited here in town. Are you a local boy?”
“Born and raised in Dallas. I moved to Whisper a few years ago, after my fellow bull rider Trey Arking started his own ranch. He raises some of the bulls we ride. I wanted to be closer to the bulls for the practice. Being able to ride a real bull is nothing like those mechanical ones, and watching old videos can only go so far.”
“Wow. Dangerous. Have you ever been hurt by a bull?” Her eyes were wide as she waved her menu to distract her from the image of him on a bull.
“A few broken bones. My left leg twice, my arm once, and three concussions. No pain, no gain.” He turned his attention to his buddy’s wife who approached the table. “Hi, Angela. Are you working today?”
The café owner smiled. “Welcome! How fun to see you two together.”
Carlie turned toward Angela. A strange expression crossed her face. “Hello, again.”
The dark-haired woman squeezed Carlie’s shoulder. “Just started my shift. Can I get you two something to drink?”
“Ice water with lemon for me.” Carlie nodded at her friend.
He pulled his gaze from the beautiful woman next to him. “I’ll have a Dr. Pepper.” Marcus laid his menu on the table.
“Thank you. We have a special sandwich today—a BLT with avocado dressing on ciabatta bread. I’ll bring your drinks out and then return to get your order.” Angela turned and left.
Marcus had watched the two women interact. They appeared close friends, but he’d thought Carlie hadn’t been in town but a few months. “How long have you known Angela?”
Carlie fidgeted with her menu, straightening it so it was perfectly parallel with the edge of the table. “I met Angela when I moved into town. My childhood friend Preston Hall took over his grandfather’s veterinarian practice. I visited him and fell in love with Whisper’s small town charm. Angela offered me the loft above the café for rent.”
He chuckled. “Angela’s the one who got me involved in the auction. I met her husband when I ran a bull riding camp for kids one summer at the ranch. He does such a wonderful job with the kids. I’ve never seen anyone work such miracles.”
Angela placed the gla
sses on the table, glancing back and forth between them. “I can’t believe you two hadn’t met before. I suppose it was due to Marcus’s NPR scheduled events. But now you have.” She rubbed her hands together. “What will you have?”
He nodded toward Carlie. “Ladies first.”
“I’ll have the cobb salad with honey mustard dressing.”
“That’s yummy,” Angela said. “And you, Marcus?”
“I’ll have the special. Sounded too good to pass up.”
“It comes with chips, is that okay?” With his nod, Angela gathered the menus. “I’ll get this out right away.”
Carlie leaned back in her chair and brushed her hand through her hair. “Isn’t the sun glorious? Just enough of a breeze to feel comfortable. By the way, I hear I have you to thank for not losing my social standing by throwing up on the front of that idiot, Pierre.”
The smile lit up her face, making her appear even prettier, her skin flawless. He longed to reach over and rub his finger across it to see if it was as soft as it looked. “You’re welcome. I’m not just a bull rider. I’m really a superhero, rescuing fair maidens from social blunders. Besides, Pierre didn’t deserve a moment of your time, although”—he winked—“throwing up on him would have been hilarious. What a pompous man.”
Her beautiful laughter had him adjusting his jeans. “Oh. Pierre’s pricey suit with vomit. That might have been worth the embarrassment. I should warn Mrs. Hamilton about his handsy ways.”
“I’m sure he’s only interested in her financial assets. She should be safe. So, why did you leave New York? Won’t you be bored here in Whisper without any good food?” His voice held a note of teasing. Holding his breath, he hoped she wouldn’t say she wanted to leave. During the small amount of time he’d spent with her today, she’d delighted him. She possessed not only beauty but brains.
“You want the truth?” She met his gaze. “I needed to escape my overbearing father. He dictated my life, from the clothes I wore to the people I hung out with. He thinks I’m here to bring Preston to his senses and return him to New York. But I’m not leaving. Even without high-end shopping and authentic ethnic foods, Whisper has more than I can get in New York. Here, I have real friends, and I’m able to live my dream of teaching dance. I’ve started a studio above the real estate agent’s office. The beautiful space will allow me to share my love of dance with the next generation.”
Cowboy Strong (Cowboy Up Book 5) Page 18