An Uptown Girl's Cowboy
Autor:in
Sasha Summers
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Kapitel
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Chapter One
“It’s my birthday, too.”
Savannah stared up at the starry sky, blinking furiously. “I know, Chelsea.” Her twin sister didn’t have the best track record for keeping plans but this was different. At least, it should be. A sisters’ night to celebrate their birthday. An evening at Gresham Hall. Some yummy dinner while The Rustler’s Five, their favorite band, played, then spending the night at the elegant West Mill Inn and getting spa treatments tomorrow. “Chels...this was your idea.” An idea they’d agreed to months ago. It was their birthday.
“I know. I know. Rain check, okay? I’ll make it up to you, so don’t be mad, okay?” Chelsea pleaded. “Please, please, please.”
Savannah could never stay mad at her twin for long—they both knew that. But she wasn’t ready to forgive and forget just yet. “Can you blame me?”
“You’d understand if you met him.” Chelsea’s swoony sigh had Savannah shaking her head.
Her sister loved falling in love. Staying in love, however, was a different story. And, though Savannah never said as much, Chelsea’s relationships were more about attraction than real love. It was a long shot, but she had to try. “What about taking a rain check with him? Asking him—”
“Damien.”
“—Damien if he can wait one night?” Savannah waited. And kept waiting. The longer Chelsea stayed quiet, the more frustrated Savannah became. If her sister did delay things with Damien and go ahead with their plans, she’d be sullen and pouty and the whole evening would be ruined. Basically, the evening was ruined either way. “Never mind.” She took a deep breath. “Have fun with Damien and I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, Pickle, you’re the best.” Chelsea squealed. “There isn’t a better sister in the whole wide world, I know it. Why don’t you try to have some fun tonight? It’d be easy to do. Just smile and laugh and be charming—you’re a hottie, too, y’know? Take a page from my book and find yourself some hottie of a cowboy eager to give you a really happy birthday.”
“Yeah, sure.” Savannah had never and would never.
“I’m serious, Pickle. You need to learn to cut loose a little. Orgasms are good for you.”
Savannah’s sigh was all irritation. Twins or not, they were two entirely different women.
“Your loss. Okay, I’ll bring a big cake home and we can eat it all when you get home tomorrow, okay?” But she hung up before Savannah could answer.
“Happy birthday.” She turned to head back inside the dance hall—and slammed into a wall. Her phone fell, hitting the wooden porch with a thud. But the hands resting on her shoulders informed her she’d collided with a very broad chest—not a wall. Even if it was rather wall-like—as chests go. “Sorry.” She stepped back, mortified.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” A deep voice. Smooth and warm.
Savannah looked up. The tan felt of his cowboy hat cast a bit of a shadow on his face, but she could make out a strong jaw lined with a close-cut auburn beard.
“My fault.” He touched the brim of his cowboy hat before stooping to pick up her phone and offering it to her.
“No, it was mine...” She took her phone. “Thank you. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Distracted... I mean, I was distracted.”
“Bad news?” He nodded at her phone.
“Um...” She shrugged. “Yeah.” But she wasn’t going to let Chelsea stop her from enjoying her night.
“Sorry to hear that.” He sounded sorry, too. Which was sweet.
“Thanks.” She blew out a slow breath, trying to rally. “Not really bad news. Not in the grand scheme of things. My sister. She just... We had plans for tonight and she canceled. She does that—a lot. At the last minute. I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s our birthday. We’re twins, so I guess I thought... Hearing it out loud, I sound pretty selfish.” She stopped, realizing she’d just shared way too much information with a complete and total stranger. “Anyway.”
He tipped back his hat then, giving Savannah a clear view of his handsome face. The first thing Savannah noticed were his eyes. Warm and brown with just the right number of lines at the corners to imply he was good-natured. Beyond that...well, he was ridiculously handsome. Very...manly. One might even say sexy. Well, Chelsea would say it. Chelsea would get that look, that He’s mine look. Savannah never thought about a man like that. Until now.
Get a grip. With an awkward smile, she headed rapidly toward the door before she could make things worse.
Inside Gresham Hall, the low rumble of the crowd and blast of air-conditioning cleared her brain. She was upset. Emotional. Irritated. Disappointed. Heck, mad even. Her reaction to the bearded cowboy was fueled by all of that. Not that there was anything wrong with her appreciating a good-looking man. He was. She did. And that was that.
She made her way to the table they’d reserved along the edge of the dance floor. Chelsea had insisted on paying for the premium table. She’d wanted to be up close to see the band. Now Savannah squirmed in her seat. Alone. Up front. She’d never felt more exposed in her entire life.
“Ready for a drink?” The waitress was young and perky, her cleavage dangerously close to spilling out of her low V-neck T-shirt. “Or are you waiting for the rest of your party?”
“It’s just me.” Savannah forced a smile. “I’ll take a white wine.”
The server’s brows rose. “Sure.” She eyed the empty chair. “Can I take this? We’re expecting a full house.”
“Of course.” Maybe having the empty chair gone would make this less awkward?
“Great.” The server lifted the chair. “I’ll be back with your wine.”
Savannah nodded, watching the chair and the server disappear into the crowded room. Was this really what she wanted to do for her birthday? Sit here, alone, drinking? Wasn’t that plain sad? She could go. If she left, she could go to the hotel, put on her comfy pajamas, watch New Girl on Netflix, and order room service. She should go. Except she really wanted to hear The Rustler’s Five. Dammit, Chels. She tapped her manicured nails across the wood-top table as she started making a mental pros-and-cons list. Bottom line, if she left, she might not get a chance to see her favorite band live again—at least not anytime soon.
“I couldn’t help but notice you, darlin’.” The words were slurred. “You’re too pretty to be sittin’ here alone.”
Savannah glanced at the man leaning a little too far into her personal space. Unlike the handsome cowboy she’d encountered on the porch, this man was an overt creeper—his focus entirely on her chest. Ugh. This was one of those times when she wished she was as good a liar as Chelsea. “I’m not alone.”
He smiled, using his thumb to point back over his shoulder. “Then why did I see your chair get carried off?”
She frowned. “I’m not interested.”
“Well, that’s because you haven’t given me a chance.” The man rested both hands on her table. “Give me five minutes and I can change your mind.”
Savannah considered the man. He was handsome enough. He was groomed and pressed, with a fresh shine on his boots. Appearance wise, there was nothing wrong with the guy. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, you can’t change my mind.”
“No?” He chuckled. “I’d hate for you to miss out. Hell, I’d hate for us both to miss out. How about I go get myself a chair and we talk about this?”
“No. Thank you.” She stopped drumming her nails, sending him her most glacial stare. It normally did the trick. Normally.
“I never back down from a challenge, darlin’.” He winked. “You’re all feisty and I like that.”
Was he serious? It’s not like she was using big words. She glanced around the room, looking for a quick exit. She didn’t have the patience for this. But her gaze landed on the hottie cowboy from outside. He was watching her. Correction, he was watching the sleazy cowboy talking to her. And hot cowboy wasn’t happy. When his eyes met hers, he stood and headed her way and all Savannah could hear was Chelsea’s advice ringing in her ears. “Cut loose. Have some fun.”
But then sleazy cowboy was taking her hand and, ick, rubbing his thumb along the inside of her wrist—and what happened next was mostly a blur.
Angus had never liked Jason Tilson. He was a fast-talking, self-inflated piece of shit that lived for the hunt and loved to talk all about his conquests. At the moment, Jason was laying it on thick with the sad-eyed woman who’d almost knocked him on his ass not ten minutes ago. And it bothered him. Something fierce. He didn’t know the woman from Adam, but he couldn’t sit there, knowing it was her birthday and she was alone, and leave her prey to a sonofabitch like Jason Tilson.
That was why he slipped off the barstool, grabbed a spare chair from a table he passed and headed toward where she sat. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but Jason was taking her hand and the look on her face told Angus everything he needed to know. He was too far in to stop now.
“Jason.” He grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him around.
“Gus?” Jason shook off Angus’s hold. “You mind?”
“Yep.” He set the chair down with a resounding thud. “She does, too.”
Jason looked at the woman, who was watching them with wide eyes, and then back at him. “You and her are...together?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. What’s it matter?” Angus stepped closer.
Jason bowed up. “It matters ’cause you’re interrupting our conversation.”
Angus gripped the front of the man’s shirt. “The conversation is over.”
“Gus.” The woman was up, her hand resting on Angus’s arm. “I don’t need anyone fighting for me.”
Angus released Jason.
“Bye, Jason.” She waved, then sat.
Jason smoothed his shirtfront and snapped, “You coulda said something.”
“I did, several times, but you were having a hard time understanding the concept of no.” The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “No should have been enough. Gus shouldn’t have had to step in to make you listen.”
Angus couldn’t sit. He was glad she was getting the chance to speak her mind but even more pissed by what he was hearing. He couldn’t help but say, “You owe her an apology.”
Jason didn’t like that one bit.
“Go on.” He gripped the chair back.
“I’m sorry.” The words were dripping with sarcasm, but Jason turned on his heel and made his way back to the bar before Angus could do or say anything more.
“This birthday just keeps getting better and better.” The woman sighed. “Thanks for that.” She was studying him.
He nodded, uncertain what that look meant.
“You want to sit?” She nodded at the chair he’d carried over. “Ward off any more unwanted advances.” There was a ghost of a smile on her full red lips.
He sat, doing his damnedest not to stare. Here he’d tried to be chivalrous and chase off that scumbag Jason. She likely wouldn’t appreciate him giving her a once-over. But she was beautiful. As soon as she’d walked into him, he’d been a little starstruck by just how pretty she was. In a soft way. Fragile. Classy and elegant. Untouchable for a man like him. “We’ll have to come up with a signal so I know what’s wanted and unwanted.”
She did smile then. “Oh, good point. Don’t want the welcome ones scared off.” She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, meeting his gaze. “Thank you. Gus?”
“You’re welcome.” His chest felt tight. Damn, but she was something to look at. “You know my name. What’s yours?”
A strange expression crossed over her face. It was no more than a handful of seconds but whatever she was thinking looked like a weighty decision. “Chelsea.” She twisted her long hair and pushed it back from her shoulders. “My name is Chelsea.”
The server arrived with a big glass of white wine. By the time he’d placed his order, Chelsea had already knocked back a third of her glass. Maybe the whole thing with Jason had upset her more than she was letting on.
An awkward silence hung over the table until the server came back with his beer. She kept looking his way, blushing, and sipping her wine. And he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Happy birthday, Chelsea.” He toasted her.
She had a blinding smile. “Thank you. Here’s to having a fun evening.” She tapped her glass to his beer bottle.
“Cheers to that.” He took a healthy swig of his beer.
Her phone chirped so she pulled it out of her purse. One look at the screen, her smile disappeared, and her phone was shoved back into her purse.
After a long stretch of silence, he asked, “All good?”
She finished off her wine. “Family. My father.” She took a deep breath, her eyes traveling over his face before she went on. “He’s on the controlling side of things. Okay, he’s very controlling. My sister and I planned this without telling him and he’s not happy about it.”
Angus could understand a father being disappointed about missing his daughters’ birthday. “Did he have something special planned?”
She shook her head, her long brown hair swaying. “Oh, yes—but not for our birthday. He’s hosting some dinner party for his big important friends tonight. Momma has a migraine—she gets them a lot when Dad has a dinner party—so he needs me to come play hostess. You know, smile and nod and refill drinks.” She peered into her empty wineglass. “I’m very good at it, too. Being charming.”
“I’m sure you are.” Angus got the feeling she had some talking to do. Surprisingly, he wasn’t against listening.
“My sister has managed to ensure he’ll never call her for help—they don’t get along. At all. My twin does what she wants, when she wants, no matter what.”
“Like tonight?” He couldn’t help but be hurt on her behalf.
“Yes. Like tonight. Sometimes, I envy her. You know? What would that be like? To do what you wanted?” A new glass of wine appeared and Chelsea took a sip. “The thing is, I get how lucky I am. I’ve never wanted for a thing in my life. Material things. It’s my parents’ way of showing us they love us, I guess. By buying us things. Sometimes I wish they’d carve out some time for us—just the family.” She took another sip. “Of course, my sister says the four of us together for more than an hour would lead to disaster, so...” She shrugged.
He and his brothers hadn’t grown up with a bunch of stuff, but they’d had loving and affectionate parents. Family dinners and chores, supporting each other’s football or baseball or rodeo events, and working the horses at the ranch. They were all in it together. He couldn’t imagine growing up any other way—especially not the way Chelsea was describing.
“I’m sorry, Gus. You’re being so sweet to me. If Ch—my sister was here, she’d tell me I was being a real downer and to lighten up, so...” She smoothed her hair back from her shoulder and looked at him. “I’m going to try that. So, I’m going to say something a little uncomfortable now.” She swallowed. “I just have to get up the nerve.”
Angus sat up, his curiosity piqued.
“You’re single?” Her gaze met his.
“Lifelong bachelor. That’s the plan.”
“I think you’re incredibly attractive.” She took a sip of wine.
“The feeling is mutual.” Which didn’t do her justice. “But I’m not so sure if the wine might be clouding things.”
“No.” She drew in an unsteady breath. “I thought so on the porch. I thought so before the wine got here. I do think the wine gave me the courage to say it out loud.” Her gaze was glued to his mouth. “I’m not drunk, Gus. I know what I’m doing and saying.”
His grip tightened on his beer bottle. “That’s good to know.”
The music started but he didn’t move. As long as she was looking at him like that, he had no interest in anything else. He’d never been so drawn in, so eager to burn in the fire she set deep inside of him. She was mesmerizing. Beautiful. And she wanted him. There was no denying or pretending otherwise.
“Dance with me?” She held her hand out to him.
The moment his fingers threaded with hers, he knew he was done for. He wouldn’t be driving home tonight or in any rush to get on the road in the morning. As long as Chelsea wanted him around, he’d stay. Holding her close on the dance floor set his every nerve on end. He lost himself in the feel of her. Her sweet softness. The scent of her. The way she fit against him.
“Gus?” she whispered.
“Hmm?” With her head resting against his chest, he suspected she could hear his heart pounding away.
“Thanks again.” She sighed and looked up at him. “I think this is going to be the best birthday ever.” Invitation burned in those dark eyes of hers.
His hand pressed flat against her back and he drew in a slow breath. If he didn’t do something to diffuse the tension between them, he was going to kiss her in a way that might not be acceptable for a public dance hall. “I don’t have a cake and I left all my birthday candles at home, but you can still make a birthday wish, if you’ve got one?”
She smiled broadly, her hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. “My birthday wish? That’s easy.” She stood on tiptoe and pulled his head down to hers. “You.”
“Don’t waste your wish on that.” He murmured against her lips. “You’ve already got me.”
Her lips clung to his and Angus forgot about the music and the band and the other people on the dance floor. Kissing her was all that mattered. And when she made a little groan of pleasure, dammit all, he didn’t want the song to end.
