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Of course, Blake was the one man she’d most like to have fall for her. But only a fool would bother drooling over the impossible, while the possible sat ready for the taking.
Blake reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Listen to me, Sprout. You’ve got a heart as big as Texas, and you’re loyal, too. A man would be lucky to have you in his life.”
Deep in her Lone Star heart, she knew that. But getting a man to take that first look? Now that was the problem.
He ran his knuckles along her cheek, causing her heart to thump and jump and do all kinds of crazy things. “I mean that, honey.”
“Thanks.” A lump formed in her throat, and she had to blink back the tears. Darn him for being so sweet.
“So tell me more about Robby.”
Huh? How had Robby sidled into the conversation? “What about him?”
“For starters, what does he look like?”
She shrugged. He was about the same height as Blake—just under six feet. But he wasn’t nearly as solid. And he was pretty fair-complexioned. Of course, that was to be expected. Robby probably had to study day and night. When would he get a chance to go outdoors in the sunshine or work out?
“I guess he’s kind of cute,” she said.
“You guess?”
She blew out a sigh. “He’s got blond hair and brown eyes. A nice smile.”
“Is he good to you?”
“Well darn it, Blake. How the heck am I supposed to know that? He’s so shy we’ve barely even talked.”
“I’m not trying to give you a hard time.”
She knew he wasn’t. But it just didn’t feel right talking about Robby in front of Blake. Not when simply sitting next to the good-looking cowboy made her want to compare the two.
And poor Robby couldn’t hold a candle to Blake.
Nope. It wasn’t right. If anyone understood how unfair comparisons felt, it was Cindy.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “We’ll go into town tomorrow and stop at the Cut N Curl and the Mercantile. And before the sun sets, you’ll be a new woman.”
Blake made it sound so easy, and she hoped he was right.
Cindy wasn’t sure when it began to matter what men thought of her, but she suspected it had started long before she’d spotted Robby fishing at the lake.
Either way, she was ready for some changes in her life. And tomorrow wasn’t going to be a day too soon.
Chapter Two
“You know, I’ve missed those guys.”
Cindy glanced at the handsome cowboy at her side, then followed his gaze to the front of the courthouse, where Dutch and Buster sat. The two crusty old men spent the daylight hours parked on that green-wood-and-wrought-iron bench and watched the world go by.
“You never used to like this town,” she said. “Or too many of the residents.”
“It’s funny what a few years’ perspective will give a man. Dutch and Buster are a hoot. Haven’t you ever taken time to talk to them?”
Dutch, the tall, lanky one of the two, chose that very moment to spit a stream of tobacco into the rusted coffee can that sat on the sidewalk and served as a joint spittoon.
His aim wasn’t very good, and Cindy could have sworn he hit Buster’s boot.
“I’ve never really chatted with them, although Grandpa does. They seem kind of crotchety, if you ask me.”
“Only if they don’t like you.” Blake chuckled. “Those two don’t miss much. And they’ve got an interesting philosophy of life, especially when it comes to the people who live in Blossom.”
Cindy had her own opinion about some of the townspeople, too. And she wondered if that came from sitting on the outside looking in, much like the two old men did.
“Come on,” Blake said. “I want to say hello to them.”
As she and Blake approached, Dutch remained seated while Buster stood.
The short, heavyset man wore a stained white shirt, green suspenders, a dusty red baseball cap and a smile. He reached out a gnarly hand to Blake. “Well, now. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Blake accepted Buster’s shake, then reached out to Dutch. “It’s good to see you guys. Looks like you’re just as ornery as ever.”
“And we’re gonna get a whole lot ornerier,” Dutch said as he leaned forward in his seat to spit into the can. “That dad-burn bunch of moral misfits aim to run us off our bench.”
Buster crossed his arms over a belly that put a real strain on his suspenders. “But they’ll have a fight on their hands. Nobody’s going to tell us where we can sit. Or where we can spit.”
Dutch leaned back in the bench and stretched out his long legs. “A couple of revenuers tried to run my daddy off the farm once. And they got a load of buckshot in the side of that fancy black car they drove.”
Buster took his seat beside his longtime friend. “This is a public bench. And just because we’ve got a little silver in our hair and gold in our teeth doesn’t mean we got metal in our brains. We’re not going to let those uppity moral morons tell us what to do.”
“By the way,” Dutch said to Blake. “I wanna congratulate you. Heard you went eight seconds with ol’ Flame Thrower. Ain’t no one done that, yet.”
Blake smiled. “It was a good day. And a good ride.”
“Folks are talking about the Blossom County rodeo and how happy they are that you’re going to compete. Why, Buster and I might even leave our bench and come watch.”
“I hope you do.”
“How’s Tuck doing?” Buster asked Cindy. “We heard he was down at the clinic last week.”
Cindy’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She didn’t know anything about her grandfather’s visit to the doctor. “He doesn’t appear to be sick.”
“Well, it ain’t nothin’ a little romancin’ won’t cure,” Dutch said with a chuckle. “We heard there’s a pretty nurse who works there. We been meanin’ to go have us a look-see ourselves.”
Grandpa was interested in a woman? She supposed that was better than him having medical problems and needing to see the doctor. But Cindy couldn’t imagine the old cowboy having a romantic streak. He was still pining over the loss of his wife. Dutch and Buster must be mistaken.
“I hate to run,” Blake told the men, “but it’s burning daylight and we still have a few errands to run. I hope to see you both at the rodeo.”
“We’ll be there,” Buster said.
Blake nudged Cindy. “We’ve got work to do, unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“I haven’t.” She picked up her pace to match his, as they cut across the lawn toward the shops that lined the north side of the town square. “You know, Dutch and Buster were right. Everyone in town is happy you’re back.”
“Only because I’ve made a name for myself. You know as well as I do that wasn’t always the case.”
Blake was right. When he first came to Blossom, people had looked down on him. He’d always said it was because he was half Indian. But Cindy and Grandpa had suspected his initial don’t-mess-with-me attitude had played a part.
“I don’t have any ties to Blossom,” he said, “other than you and Tuck. And I’m only riding in the rodeo because Jason and Trace asked me to.”
Mayor Jason Strong and Sheriff Trace McCabe had become friends of Blake’s back in high school, after they’d stepped in during a teenage brawl and saved Blake from getting the tar beaten out of him.
Blake’s loyalty to the two men was admirable, and she respected him for it. His loyalty to her and Grandpa was admirable, too. But she really had to get her mind back on the business at hand.
“Where are we going first?” she asked.
“To the Mercantile.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward the upscale dress shop.
Cindy purchased her clothing at Family Fashions, a discount store that made shopping a handy, one-stop experience for her and Grandpa. And the last winter, when she’d acquired what seemed like a sudden interest in women’s fashion, she’d made a point of walking by the Mercantile whenever she was in town.
She liked to peer through the big picture window at the mannequins on display. But even though she was often tempted to step inside, she never had. She would feel a bit awkward entering a fancy place like that by herself.
So having Blake as her guide was going to be an adventure, for more reasons than one.
When they reached the entrance, he dropped his hand, leaving her feeling almost abandoned, as he opened the door to let her in.
A burst of nervousness buzzed through her as they walked into the shop filled with racks of stylish outfits. And although she wanted to slip her hand in his, she resisted the urge.
After all, she’d been the one who’d agreed to a makeover. And the one who’d decided to set her sights on Robby and ask for Blake’s help. So she’d have to be woman enough to face her nerves head-on.
“May I help you?” a well-dressed saleslady asked.
“I’d like to buy a couple of outfits for my friend,” Blake told her.
Cindy nudged him with her elbow. “I only asked for your advice. You’re not paying for anything.” She patted the small purse she carried. “Besides, I have plenty of cash saved up for this.”
“Well, you can put your money away. I’m paying for everything.” Blake looked at the saleslady. “We’d like something young and stylish. Can you give us some suggestions?”
“Of course.” The salesclerk indicated a chair where Blake could wait. Then she eyed Cindy carefully. “Let’s get you in the fitting room, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Twenty minutes later, Blake continued to sit on a red-velvet-covered settee that was so delicate he hoped it would hold him. His black Stetson rested on the cushion beside him as he thumbed through a fashion magazine.
He knew the Mercantile was a women’s dress shop, but you’d think they’d set out reading material that might interest a man who had to tag along. Of course, he hadn’t been inside a place like this for years, not since his mother had dragged him to the mall back home and made him wait while she tried on every darn thing in several stores. He didn’t like shopping with a woman back then, and he sure as heck didn’t like it now.
But this was a favor for Cindy.
“Are you ready for a fashion show?” the brunette saleslady asked with what he suspected was an I-work-on-commission smile.
“Sure.” He set down the magazine and stretched out his legs. They may as well get the show on the road. Then they could get out of here.
“The first number is a sundress designed by Catarini, a new designer out of New York.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. The woman could can the commentary. All he cared about was whether it looked good on Cindy and whether she liked it.
But as Cindy walked timidly from the fitting room, wearing a slinky green sundress that showed off a heck of a lot more of her than the jeans and shirt she’d worn in there, he nearly dropped his teeth.
The petite redhead tugged at the material that slid tauntingly over her hips. “What do you think? Is it too small?”
No. Yes. Heck, he didn’t know.
She turned around and glanced over her shoulder to get a different view of her reflection. “I’m not comfortable with my legs showing.”
He didn’t know why. She had great legs. Not very long, of course, since she only stood a whisper over five feet. But they were shaped perfectly.
“The dress looks good,” he said, his voice coming out in a choked whisper. Real good.
“Do you think Robby will pay more attention to me if I wear something like this?” she asked.
Heck, yeah. Unless the bookworm was blind. All Blake knew was that it would sure make him sit up and take notice.
She tugged at the hem, which rested just above the knee, apparently still stressing about the length.
“Why aren’t you comfortable with your legs showing?” he asked.
“Someone once told me that my knees were knobby, so I’ve kept them covered up ever since.” She glanced in the mirror, checking her hemline. Then she looked at him as though wanting confirmation.
Something told him that he might have been the one who had teased her. “If it was me, I’m sorry. You have great legs and knees. I was either lying, or you outgrew that coltish stage.” Then he looked at the salesclerk. “We’ll take it.”
The woman clapped her hands without making much of a sound. “I knew you’d like it. She has a lovely shape and can wear those formfitting outfits.”
“I’m a little self-conscious dressed like this,” Cindy admitted.
“You shouldn’t be, dear.” The woman grinned. “Now go in and try on those black cropped pants and the top that goes with it.”
Before long, Cindy returned wearing a pair of pants that rode low on her hips and a jungle-print blouse that left a strip of her waistline bare. Blake knew that was the style. And he liked the look, especially on other women. But he wasn’t sure he wanted Cindy parading the streets of Blossom like that.
He’d had no idea what she’d been hiding behind denim and flannel.
Ten minutes later, Blake paid for the purchases, which included three different pants outfits, two dresses—one yellow, the other black—and a pair of black heels. The salesclerk also rang up the white silky blouse, blue skirt and strappy sandals Cindy was wearing.
As the saleslady carefully packed each item in a piece of tissue, she smiled.
No doubt about it. That had to be an I’m-counting-my-hefty-commission grin. But what the heck. Cindy deserved a shopping spree, and he was happy he could provide her one.
“You don’t mind if I wear this out, do you?” Cindy glanced at the skirt she wore, again tugging at the hem even though it really wasn’t too short. “It’s kind of skimpy.”
“And very fashionable,” the clerk added. “You look fabulous.”
Blake had to agree. But he still wasn’t sure he wanted her walking around town like that. And he didn’t have the foggiest notion why.
