Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (20 page)

“It’s not in your nature,” George said. “Having sex with a nice guy is not slutty.”

“Hear, hear!” Marielle raised her cocktail glass in a toast.

“But,” George said.

“Oh-oh,” Marielle teased. “Here it comes.”

“It’s not a criticism,” the redhead said. “Just a warning. When I started out with Woody, I thought it would be casual. We’re so different, I couldn’t imagine him being my soul mate.”

“And look how that ended up,” Marielle said.

“Exactly.” George’s hazel eyes were serious. “My heart got involved. Fortunately, so did his, and it turned out we
were
soul mates and”—she raised her hand so that her engagement ring caught the light, sending sparkles dancing—“all’s well that ends well. But you see what I’m saying, Kim?”

She nodded. “Sure. But that’s not going to happen. I’ll be in Hong Kong in a month and a half, and Ty will be at his big family ranch.”

“You’re positive about going back to Hong Kong?” George asked.

“Oh, yes. Whatever happens with my art plans—and I want to talk to you about that—there’s one sure thing in my life. Hong Kong. No way are my parents going to let me live anywhere else.”

“Parents don’t rule your life,” Marielle said.

“That’s not really what I’m saying. We’re a family. They’ve given me everything, and I love them. I love Hong Kong too; it’s my home. Of course I’ll go back.”

Lily nodded. “I admit I don’t see you living on a ranch and wearing a Stetson—excuse me, Resistol.”

“Exactly.” And why should those words, true as they were, give her a twinge? The country might be surprisingly nice to visit, but she wasn’t into toting hay and dodging cow pies. “Ty’s great, and he deserves a perfect ranch wife. Like I deserve a perfect Hong Kong husband.” Her parents would try to find her one. And Ty would fall in love with some superwoman who toted hay, tended horses, grew veggies, baked pies, and raised kids. And probably didn’t have a creative bone in her body, and would never dream of painting his naked body.

Feeling unsettled for no good reason, she took another drink and determinedly changed the subject. “Before we get back to the book, could I take five more minutes and get your feedback on something? How do you feel about umbrellas?”

* * *

W
hen she got home from book club, Kim dove into Chinese
rumspringa
by e-mailing Ty to say she’d love to see him again. But when? Her fingernails tapped the table beside the keyboard. She’d like to visit the ranch again, this time with art supplies. But that was his world, and she wanted her turn. He’d made her ride a horse, which, admittedly, had been okay. Now she needed to challenge him. What would most challenge a cowboy?

Hmm . . . A group of Emily Carr grads was having an exhibit, opening Wednesday. She’d learned not to invite Henry to art events. He politely pretended interest, but was bored and restless. Why not ask Ty? How would he respond? She typed,

I’ve seen yours; how’d you like to see mine? World, that is. There’s an art exhibit opening Wednesday night. Want to come?

She added the link to the exhibit, then shut down her e-mail and got to work on her business research. The book club members had been enthusiastic and provided great input. Tomorrow, Kim would visit Vancouver’s umbrella shop, and she wanted to have a comprehensive list of questions and ideas to discuss with the owner.

When she was done for the night, she checked her e-mail and found Ty’s reply.

Bull in a china shop? But I can deal. When should I pick you up?

Grinning, she provided the details. Then she shut down her computer, stood, and did a twirly spin. She’d be seeing Ty in less than two days! Let
rumspringa
begin!

Twenty

T
y didn’t have a clue what to wear to an art exhibit opening. His mother might know; she was the one who went into Vancouver for events. Tuesday morning, after he and his mom wound up a discussion of new markets for their ostrich meat, he said, “I’m going into Vancouver tomorrow night to meet Kim. There’s an art exhibit she wants to go to.”

His mom’s strangled expression told him she was fighting to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, fine,” he said, “so I’m not exactly the arty type. But hey, if I don’t have any culture, it’s your fault and Dad’s for raising me that way.”

“I wouldn’t say we don’t have
any
culture, but I see your point.”

“Anyhow, I wondered, since you go in to the theater and stuff, if you have any idea what I should wear.”

This time, the chuckle escaped her. “How old are you? Twenty-nine? This is the first time you’ve asked me for clothing advice.”

“Because jeans and a hat pretty much always worked, with a fancy shirt or a plain one, depending. I’m guessing that might not be the dress code for an art exhibit.”

“Probably not. Why don’t you ask Kim?”

Because he was trying to demonstrate that he wasn’t a total bumpkin. He shrugged.

“Right,” his mom said dryly. “Okay. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know, I wouldn’t suggest a suit either.”

“Thank God.” He occasionally wore one to a business meeting, but hated every moment.

“Black pants and that black, lightweight Henley sweater. Shoes, not boots.”

“Henley sweater?”

“Round neck, no collar, placket front with three or four buttons?”

“Oh yeah, right. It’s comfortable.”

“Leave the top button or two undone. Roll the sleeves up your forearms, the way you do with your western shirts. You’ll look casually stylish.”

He shook his head bemusedly. “Casually stylish. Yeah, that’s me.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime.” She didn’t go on but her brow had furrowed.

Knowing he shouldn’t ask, he still couldn’t resist saying, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just . . . You’re not getting serious about this girl, are you?”

“Nah. She’s going back to Hong Kong.” Again, he shouldn’t ask, but he did. “But, out of curiosity, what do you have against her?”

“I barely met her. She’s cute, polite. But son, she’s not a ranch girl.”

“What gave it away?” he joked. “The streaks in her hair?” Before she could answer, he went on. “No. And I’m not an arty city boy. Kim and I know that, Mom. This is a short-term thing.” Though he had a feeling he’d miss the dragonfly girl, and not just for the wild and crazy sex.

“I thought you were ready to settle down.”

“Haven’t met anyone, so what’s wrong with hanging out with Kim?”

“Nothing, I suppose. I just wonder if it’s avoidance.”

“Avoidance?” If he didn’t see Kim, that would be avoidance, wouldn’t it? What was his mom talking about? “Avoidance of what?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Women baffle me.”

Now, finally, she smiled. “Of course we do.”

* * *

A
sking his mom’s wardrobe advice paid off. When Ty double-parked outside Kim’s building, she climbed in and said, “Wow. Look at you.”

“Recognize me without the cowboy hat and boots?”

“Barely.” She kept staring at him. “You look like you belong downtown.”

“It’s a disguise. I really don’t. Come here and kiss me.”

She leaned over and her lips met his, sweet and quick. A horn honked before he could demand more.

“You look terrific,” he said. She wore a short skirt made of layers of fabric that puffed it out, a bit like a ballerina’s skirt—or like butterfly wings. It was patterned in several shades of orange and rust, with white and black accents. She wore it over black tights that ended midcalf. On top, she had a figure-hugging orangey red top, kind of like a dancer’s leotard, and a skinny scarf wound around her neck. The scarf had a lacy black and white design. The highlights in her hair were deep orange, the paint on her fingernails white. Her shoes were platform-soled orange sandals, her toenails were black.

“Thanks,” she said. “Inspired by the Red Lacewing butterfly.”

He’d never known a woman who dressed like Kim. It took getting used to, but he liked it. She sure did brighten things up. And, whatever she wore, his gut-level reaction was to strip off her clothes and be naked with her. Which he was definitely going to do, as soon as the art exhibit was over.

The exhibit was at a gallery on Granville Island. Though he was no expert on driving in Vancouver, he knew the Island. Ronan Ranch supplied one of the butchers at the big market. As they drove, Kim updated him on her umbrella research.

“You base all your designs on particular butterflies?”

“Loosely. Or dragonflies or birds.”

“How about attaching a card to each umbrella with the name and picture, maybe a detail or two?”

“Ty, that’s brilliant!” She beamed at him, then said, “Oh, that’s the turn. There, then right again.”

Once parked, he went around to open the passenger door, and she slid down into his arms. “Brilliant,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He tightened his hold. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” She fingered the open neck of his sweater. “I like this.”

“The sweater or what’s underneath?”

“Both.”

He wondered if she had that same reaction, about wanting to get naked. He wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a warm, lingering kiss. Not really trying to turn both of them on. That would be pointless right now. Just anticipating the end of the evening, when they’d be in bed.

She responded enthusiastically, and so much for not being turned on. “Whoa now.” He eased back. “If you want to see this exhibit, we gotta stop now.”

“And here I thought you were looking for an excuse to bail.” She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. “You’re going to see things you hate, things you don’t understand, and hopefully some stuff you like. I’m betting you won’t see any western landscapes, though.”

“I’ll keep an open mind.”

He did his best to honor that promise as she forged through the crowd inside the exhibit room. She might be half his size, but she moved with an appealing air of confidence. Glancing around, he saw sculpture, painting, photography, and things he didn’t have a clue how to classify. Like that huge canvas that had not only paint but bits of metal, feathers, coins, and God knows what else.

Kim obviously had a destination in mind.
Oh good, the bar.

“I figure this’ll help with that open mind,” she told him. They both chose Granville Island ales, hers honey maple and his dark.

“Let’s start there.” She gestured toward a selection of black-and-white photographs.

He studied them, thinking they were just a jumble of shapes, then he read the label beside one. “A lighthouse?” Hmm, now he could see it was the actual light with its many surfaces, taken from an unusual angle, with odd lighting. “Interesting. What do you think?” To him, the pictures were dramatic but chilly.

“I do like art that makes you see things differently. But you know me, I love color. I’m not a big fan of black and white.”

They moved on, to the big weird thing with feathers and coins. “I don’t have a clue what this is,” Ty confessed.

“It’s a mixed media collage using found objects.”

“And I don’t have a clue what you just said.”

“Kind of like heifers and cows, and all those other names for cattle. To me, what really counts is the viewer’s reaction. If art makes you smile, brings back a good memory, tugs at your heartstrings, or makes you think, then it’s a success. It’s subjective.”

“So I shouldn’t pretend to be an art snob?”

“You really think that would work?”

Chuckling, he squeezed her hand, enjoying the warmth and connection in this room full of strangers and unusual art. More at ease, he moved slowly around the room with Kim, sharing impressions, sometimes agreeing and often not. They joked, laughed, touched. He was actually having a good time. Maybe just the fact of being with Kim made for a good time.

She said hello to fellow students and teachers and he saw she was friendly, popular, and knowledgeable about the art. She introduced him by name, not attaching a label like “friend” or “boyfriend.” He figured their clasped hands told a story.

Here, he wasn’t the owner of a ranch, nor a guy with cases full of buckle belts. He was the guy holding Kim’s hand. And that was a fine thing to be. When a couple of people asked whether he was an artist too, he said a simple, “No.”

A few pieces of art did impress him. One, an abstract in vivid yellows and oranges with accents of green and black, made him think of sunflowers. He checked the label. Sure enough, it said “Sun Flower.” “I like this.”

“Me too. If a person was having a down day, this would brighten it.”

When they’d covered the whole exhibit, that sunflower painting drew him back. He imagined it on the wall of the ranch office. When he was stuck at the computer, wishing he was outside, he wouldn’t mind looking at that painting. He shared the office with his parents, but figured his mom would like it because it was a flower, and his dad probably wouldn’t even notice. It wasn’t all that expensive, and it didn’t have a red dot on the label to indicate it was sold.

“I want to buy this,” he told Kim.

“Seriously? Cool.”

They made their way to a table where a young man with pale skin and black clothes was taking orders. He recorded Ty’s information. “The exhibit lasts ten days. You’ll be able to pick it up after that.” He handed Ty a red dot. “Want to put that on?”

Feeling pride of ownership, Ty, with Kim at his side, returned to the painting to stick the red dot on the label.

“You bought that one?” He turned to see a chubby woman with short, curly red hair and an infectious smile.

“I did.”

“I painted it. I’m so glad you like it.”

“I do. It makes me feel good.”

She beamed. “Thanks! That’s the best compliment.”

“Congratulations on the exhibit,” Kim said. “I’m a student at Emily Carr, and it’s great to see the grads doing so well.”

“One day it’ll be you,” the redhead said cheerfully, then departed with a finger-wave.

As Ty headed toward the exit with Kim, he asked, “Guess you want to exhibit your work?”

“Maybe.” She paused in the doorway, glanced back at the busy room, and laughed. “Yes, sure. But for me, that’d be more about play. Experimenting with different styles, seeing if people relate to my art. Mostly, I like the challenge of something like UmbrellaWings, finding a creative way to do something practical, to create my own business niche. The other stuff, it’d just be a way of keeping fresh, artistically.”

“Huh. Like for me, working with the horses is the thing I most want to do. Ranching’s about family, stability, diversity. Rodeo’s about fun, keeping excited and inspired.”

She gazed up at him, her dark eyes sparkling under the overhead lights. “Weird how we can be so different, yet kind of the same.”

It was. He mused on that as he put his arm around her and they walked to the truck. “Have you told your parents about UmbrellaWings?”

“No. I want to present them with a complete business plan.”

He opened the passenger door, she hopped in, and he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in too. “Let me know if I can help. I know you have a degree in business admin, but I do a lot of business planning with the ranch so I’ve got hands-on experience.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks so much.”

“You’re coming out to the ranch this weekend, right? We can work on it then.”

“Great.” She touched his arm. “You can’t imagine how nice it is to have someone encourage me.”

He could relate to that. He started up the truck and backed out of the parking spot. “Family should do that, but I guess parents have their own issues.”

“Yours too?”

“Not so much now. We’re figuring out how to work together. But when I was young and wanted to rodeo? My parents hated the idea. My grandparents supported me. It made for rough times at the ranch. I was glad to take off.” Though he still felt guilty for being so self-centered that he hadn’t realized his family was in danger of losing Ronan Ranch.

That was the past. He couldn’t change it. He glanced over at Kim. “If you come up with a great business plan, your parents will get on board, won’t they?”

“Maybe.” She folded her arms across her chest “I hope so. But I don’t think they’ve ever believed I’ll be able to do it. I just hope they judge my plan fairly and don’t reject it out of hand.” She sighed. “After all, it has to be something even my ancestors will be proud of.”

“That’s crazy.”

She shook her head. “Let’s not think about my ancestors tonight. Want to do something? Go dancing?”

It had been a long day and he wanted to be alone with Kim. Alone and naked. He stifled a yawn. “Honestly? I’ve been up since four and I’m beat.” He reached over to squeeze her thigh. “And I’ve had enough of just holding your hand. If you want to dance, let’s make it horizontal.”

“Sounds good to me. I can’t believe you’ve been up since four.”

“Had to get up a bit earlier, so I could quit work early. Usually it’s five or so.” He shrugged. “Ranchers are early risers, and early to bed. How about you? Are you a night person?” Driving off the Granville Street Bridge toward Yaletown, he noted how busy the streets were.

“If I’m with friends and we get talking or go dancing, I can be up until one or two. But usually it’s earlier than that. I go to bed when I feel like it. It’s been nice in Vancouver, living alone and setting my own schedule rather than conforming to my parents’.”

“When you go back to Hong Kong, will you get your own place?”

She shook her head. “Not only couldn’t I afford it, but my parents would be shattered. I’ll live with them until I get married.”

“You figuring on doing that soon? Will your parents try matchmaking again?” He imagined her back in Hong Kong. She’d spend time with her parents, start her business, get married, have kids. She was so vibrant and fascinating; he hoped she found a guy who appreciated how special she was. Who supported and encouraged her dreams. Though he kind of hated the thought of Kim with another man.