Her Baby Dreams (2 page)

D
an had never met a more bullheaded woman. Ashby beat the competition hands down.

He slid her a glance. It was obvious her feet were killing her. Her pace had slowed over time, and when she thought he wasn't watching, she was limping on her right foot. Crazy woman.

So get on the bike already and let him do the work.
What,
he wanted to shout out,
was the big deal?

He took a deep breath. The woman had a way of getting under his skin, and had from the first day they'd met. He could count on his left thumb the number of women who'd ever turned him down for a date. That woman was limping stubbornly beside him right now.

“Look, I know your feet are killing you.”

She scorched him with a glare that warmed his blood. Yanking the bike to a halt, he watched her increase the distance between them. Yes, sir, there she went with her perfectly blunt-cut hair swinging and swaying in perfect time with each step she took. Everything about her was perfect.

Which was precisely her problem. She was just too perfect.

Still, did she honestly think she was too good to ride on the handlebars of his bike? When he'd signed up, he'd been expecting to draw some high-spirited gal as a partner, and spend a pleasant afternoon on this little escapade. Boy, was the laugh on him.

Could Ashby not see the potential in the whole game?

Standing in the center of the blacktop, exactly halfway along the course, he watched her struggle.

It just didn't make sense. None of it. Not the limping, or the refusal to get on the stinkin' bike. He ought to throw her over his shoulder and haul her into town kicking and screaming.

But that wasn't his way. He hung his head and gathered his wits as he tried to come up with a new strategy. One that didn't require losing his temper, since he didn't allow himself to lose his temper, ever. Especially with a female. He refused to follow in his father's footsteps.

But the woman was hurting herself for no good reason.

He shouldn't be surprised. She'd been Miss Prim from the moment she'd first shown up in Mule Hollow. Beyond perfect, like an airbrushed cover girl. Most of the cowboys around town had taken one look at her and figured she was out of their league.

Dan, never one to be accused of a lack of confidence, thought he'd do her a favor and break the ice, so he'd asked her out. Maybe that way the other wranglers would see she was approachable.

He'd just been trying to help her out.

Imagine his surprise when the woman turned him down. One flat no, and she'd sashayed off, high heels clicking on the plank sidewalk.

Worst part of the scenario was that this had taken place in front of Sam's Diner, with a herd of cowboys watching from the shadows inside.

The very idea that she'd refused to go out with him sparked a challenge in Dan. He'd decided right then and there he was going to get a date with her if it took a year. It was the principle of the whole thing.

Of course that was before he'd realized the ramifications of their interaction.

Little did she know it, but she'd sealed her fate that day. He felt bad about the fact that asking her out in public had backfired as it had. Dan had been kidded and teased no end, because of the brutal way she'd shot him down. He could feel sorry for himself, but a little teasing never hurt anyone. Then again, he suspected Ashby wouldn't feel the same way. This woman was all business when it came to dating. It was all about finding a husband. She had no idea that because of that day in front of Sam's, unless something drastic happened, she was done. When a cowpoke got turned down by a gal, the slang expressions in certain cowboy circles was no longer that he'd gotten axed, but that he'd been “Ashed.”

Of course, to the fellas it was harmless joking.

If her reaction just now was any indication, she'd explode if she knew what was being said. Dan really felt guilty about the whole thing. He'd thought asking her out in public would break the ice, not shut her down.

For a natural fixer like him, that was hard to deal with. As a boy whose earliest memories were of his mother getting smacked around by his dad, the need to fix situations had become embedded in his emotional makeup. His approach to problems was a talent he'd happened upon by accident a few years later, living in a women's shelter with his mom. All the occupants of which, like his mother, needed their confidence rebuilt.

He'd learned that when he smiled, women smiled.

It had first happened when he tried to make his mom feel better, and saw that his smile brightened her expression. But when he'd seen his smile cause a young woman with a black eye and a swollen lip to smile back at him, it had dawned on even a kid of six that a little charm could transform someone's life. If only for a moment.

Dan had been blessed with a playful heart, and God had given him an unlikely path at an early age that he had followed into adulthood.

Things with Ashby weren't entirely the same. He couldn't explain it completely, but he'd unknowingly given her a bad rep, and he felt a need to repair it.

He'd tried telling the guys she'd been having a bad day but it had not convinced them. So he figured if she'd go out with him, like he'd planned originally, that it would redeem her in the eyes of the other cowboys.

Not so easy. She wasn't cooperating for some reason. Despite this, they'd actually developed a relationship based on banter over the months of continued rejection—banter he found entertaining most of the time. Not today.

This day was going to add to the urban legend she'd become, and try as he might, there was nothing he could do.

Shaking his head, he pushed the bike forward. She didn't have a clue this race could very well seal her fate for good.

Unless she changed her ways, Ashby Templeton would die an old maid here in Mule Hollow, surrounded by cowboys diligently searching for wives. And she wouldn't even know why.

 

On Friday, Ashby walked into Heavenly Inspirations Salon knowing that something had to change. She just didn't know what.

Was
she the reason that her love life was nonexistent?

She still hadn't completely forgiven her friends for setting her up in that horrible bike race with Dan Dawson two weeks earlier. What had they been thinking? It would go down in history as one of the worst days of her life. Honestly, they knew he was a thorn in her side. That she'd refused to go out with him several times over the past year. So why had they done it?

She'd told herself they'd acted with the best of intentions, however misguided they might be. Still, as she entered the salon, she could only shake her head that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel in an attempt to help her find a husband. They must really think her hopeless.

Lacy had called a meeting of the local ladies to discuss plans to attract more visitors to town.

“Hi, everyone,” Ashby said, scanning the full room. The matchmakers were all present. Norma Sue Jenkins, robust and good-hearted, grinned at her from where she and redheaded Esther Mae Wilcox were shelling peas in the corner. Adela, their partner in matchmaking, was sitting at the manicure table watching Sheri, co-owner of the salon, paint her own toenails.

It had been Adela who'd come up with the idea to transform her small town into a place that would attract and hopefully hold a generation of younger women. They'd hatched their “wives wanted” ad campaign, and had been matchmaking ever since. Lacy had come along first and opened her salon; others soon followed. Still more came to the festivals and weekend events held to mingle with the cowboys and enjoy the imaginative, sometimes outrageous things this group came up with for them to participate in. The bike race being a case in point. Today, feeling dread like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach, Ashby wondered what new idea was brewing.

“Hey, Ashby, you do
not
look so good,” Lacy said, sitting in the shampoo chair, thumbing through a salon supply brochure.

“You sure don't,” Sheri agreed.

The room grew still as everyone paused and stared. “I'm fine,” Ashby said, and sat down in the chair by the door.

“You're not still upset about the spring festival, are you?” Esther Mae asked. “I just can't believe you didn't let that cutie-pie Dan give you a ride on the bike. That was the whole reason for the race. Why, me and my Hank used to love to ride around like that.”

“Leave her be, Esther Mae. She must have had her reasons,” Norma Sue said, adding dryly, “though not any I can figure out.”

So much for the support, Ashby thought as Norma Sue eyeballed her.

“On the other hand,” she added, “that was supposed to be an enjoyable adventure. I never in all of my days saw a person look as gloomy as you did when you limped into town.”

“She had her reasons,” Adela said, and Ashby gave her a grateful smile.

“I'm sorry I disappointed all of you. But the point is, I should never have been in that race. Especially paired up with Dan—”

“But the man is perfect for you.”

Ashby stared at Esther Mae, too mystified by the observation to even gather a coherent defense. Her blood pressure escalated just thinking about him.

Esther Mae snapped a handful of pea pods in half as if to punctuate her shocking statement. “You should ask Dan out on a date.”

Ashby's mouth fell open and chuckles erupted from every corner of the room.

“First off,” she managed to reply, “I would never ask a man out on a date. And second, if I did, it certainly wouldn't be Dan.”

“Well, I just don't understand you,” Esther Mae said. “He is such a sweet boy.”

“He's shallow and irresponsible,” Ashby countered. She wanted to tell them she'd had the misfortune of being drawn to his kind, but she couldn't bring herself to shine that light on her failures. It wasn't easy telling others that the man she'd trusted and believed in had betrayed her. It was humiliating enough. Besides, she'd learned her lesson well. Flirts couldn't be trusted. Men like Steven…She pushed him from her thoughts. She didn't like thinking back. Instead she focused on Dan. “He flirts with everyone. It's as if he thinks that flashing that gorgeous smile of his will have women eating out of his hand!”

“It is a gorgeous smile,” Esther Mae said. “Swashbuckling pirate. That's what I think when he flashes it.”

Ashby felt heat flush her cheeks at the picture Esther Mae painted. “Why in the world would all of you think he and I could be more than antagonists? I frustrate him and he irritates me.”

Esther Mae harrumphed. “You can't tell me you aren't attracted to him—”

“Esther Mae,” Norma Sue said. “Leave the girl be. She just doesn't see it yet.”

Ashby could see fine. It appeared they were the ones in need of an eye exam…or maybe a head exam. “Dan Dawson is not husband material,” she said. This was the very group of ladies she'd hoped would help her find a mate, and it was very disconcerting to realize how off base they were. It was a discouraging blow to know that she was on her own, a situation that had never worked out before. She could not trust her own judgment when it came to men. She was afraid to. She'd believed in Steven and she never saw his betrayal coming. She needed help, but even God seemed to have decided to be silent on this issue.

“You don't have the right impression of Dan,” Norma Sue said, drawing Ashby back from her morose thoughts.

“You certainly don't,” Esther Mae agreed. “Exactly our reasoning behind tweaking the bike race so y'all would be together. Never underestimate the power of sparks.”

Lacy waved her hands. “Okay, enough picking on Ashby. We called you down here to get your opinion on my new idea. You know we have a rodeo coming up in a couple of weeks, and we've been racking our brains for a new fund-raiser. The proceeds are going into the emergency fund for the shelter.”

Ashby looked at them with leery eyes. “It doesn't involve me, bikes or Dan Dawson, does it?”

“Only if you want it to.” Lacy chuckled. “It's a pig scramble.”

Everyone but Ashby squealed in obvious delight at the very thought of such a thing.

She slowly scanned the room. “Could you elaborate on the term ‘pig scramble'? Remember, I'm not a country girl.”

Lacy's expertly shagged hair did a jig with her laughter. “It's where we grease up a small pig, let it loose in the arena, and whoever catches it wins the scramble. Doesn't that sound like a hoot and a half?”

Oh, Ashby got it. They were playing a joke on her; that's what this was all about. They were all waiting to see her reaction, before telling her their real idea. But a closer look at their expressions confirmed that they weren't joking.

Mule Hollow was about to have itself a pig scramble.

The expectant expressions surrounding her gave Ashby a bad feeling. “Oh no! Don't even think about conning me into this like you did that bike race,” she said. “The day I scramble for a pig will be the day pigs fly!”