Laredo's Sassy Sweetheart (2 page)

He laughed. “I don’t have to obey him anymore. But I wouldn’t be any good at riding, Katy. I never learned. And there’s more to it than getting on.”

She looked as if she might cry any second.

“Here,” he said gently, “let’s take a walk. Tell me what’s going on, and maybe I can help you resolve your situation.”

“I need a hero,” she said stubbornly.

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I promise I think better than I ride. Come on. Walk and talk.”

She sighed, not liking his offer one bit, but clearly seeing no way to refuse. “There’s a lot at stake.”

“You don’t look like the kind of girl who hangs around rodeos, Katy.” He eyed her curves underneath her long dress with appreciation. She’d look mighty fine in blue jeans—

“I’m not,” she said as they began to walk side by side. She glanced up, almost catching him eyeing those curves. “Until last week, I’d never even seen a bull up close.”

“What happened last week?” He couldn’t resist asking since her head had drooped, her pretty sable-colored hair swinging forward as she spoke. “Tell Uncle Laredo.”

She shot him a wry look. “You are not my uncle, cowboy.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m supposed to be the hero. Only I got shot off my horse.”

“Bull, not horse.” She sighed. “Every year Miss Delilah buys a bull from one of the local FFA kids. The kids raise their bulls, usually from the time they were born, until they auction them at the fair. This pays for college and other expenses. Then Delilah enters her bull in certain events, such as riding, and best hoof painting.”

“Hoof painting?” He put out a hand to slow her determined gait. “You act like you’re marching on the enemy yourself. What’s best hoof painting?”

“It’s sort of a paint-your-nails-for-bulls event. Only it’s the hooves that get painted as pretty as they can possibly be. Flowers, doodles, Indian sun
sets, you name it. On an animal that won’t stay still. It’s a mental and physical challenge.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“Miss Delilah thought it up.”

“Of course.” It sounded like a beauty salon owner’s idea.

“Don’t sound so snickery. Miss Delilah raises a lot of money for charity with her contests. People come from miles around to enter. And then, when the fair comes to town the following year, she sells the bull to the restaurant in Texas that bids the most for it. By then, everybody’s seen her bull for that year, in several events, and they bid it pretty high. With this money, she’s been able to keep her salon open.” Katy shook her head sadly. “Everyone wins, you know. The student who raised the bull, Lonely Hearts Station charities, a lucky restaurant and Miss Delilah’s favorite charity, taking in women who need a helping hand. But not since the Never Lonely girls opened up their salon.”

She tossed her head in the direction of a business no one could miss—almost the red-light establishment of beauty salons with a neon sign sure to light up a dark sky and all manner of lip prints painted on the windows. “Rivals, huh?”

“Delilah’s sister, Marvella, runs that shop, and she wants nothing more than to put Delilah out of business. And her weapon of the moment is a bull named Bad-Ass Blue.”

Laredo would have laughed, except, by the serious stiffness in Katy’s back, he knew he’d better
swallow the laughter fast. “So, how does a bull ruin Miss Delilah’s shop?”

“By getting more attention. By having a rider that knows how to showboat. By luring our rider into missing his ride,” Katy said bitterly. “Bloodthirsty Black never even got out of the chute because we didn’t have a rider.”

Laredo was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “And the best-hoof-painting contest? How did Bloodthirsty Black fare in that?”

“Not at all,” Katy said. “Someone slipped a baby mouse into his stall and he darn near broke it down trying to crush the poor thing. After that no one dared get near him.”

Laredo shook his head. “No one plants a mouse. They just hang around livestock areas.”

“Not this one. It still had the price tag on it.”

He couldn’t help a chuckle now, which earned him a rebuking stare from Katy. “They don’t put price tags on mice, Katy.”

“This one was wearing a red price tag on his back. Two dollars and ninety-eight cents,” she said definitively.

Laredo was positive she was giving him a tall tale. “A marked-down mouse, I guess.”

She instantly halted, putting her fists on her hips. It was a gesture he kind of thought looked good on her, even though any sane man shied away from a ticked-off female. “There is nothing funny about Miss Delilah’s dilemma. If you were truly my hero, you would know that this is a serious matter.”

That stung, far worse than it should have. So much for doing something big—he couldn’t even pass a small hero’s test like not laughing at a story aimed to make him look like a patsy. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly.

“You certainly should be. It’s not gentlemanly to laugh at people’s livelihoods.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, and Katy was right. In silence they began to walk again, more companionably now since he’d proffered an apology. “Okay, say the price tag on the mouse was a coincidence. Maybe it had run through a bag and picked it up accidentally.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. It was from a store in Dallas.”

“But it could have been something someone brought to the rodeo,” he insisted. “What’s the purpose of leaving a price tag on a mouse? It basically alerts you to the fact that there’s been cheating and sabotage.”

“But that’s the intimidation factor. They have never cared that we know what they’re doing. Who’s to stop them? All the younger men in this town go to that salon, including the sheriff. We get the wives, who want no part of what goes on over there.”

“And that’s another thing. Have you ever been inside the salon? Tried their services?”

“No.”

“So how do you know that this is all deliberate?”

“They lured our cowboy into their salon, they got
him drunk—and possibly more—on the day he was supposed to ride. What assumption would you draw from that?”

“That he was a lazy cowboy, and maybe not even a real bull rider, Katy. Did you ever think of that?”

“He had a buckle and all kinds of pictures of him with other trophies.”

Laredo sighed, knowing any of that could have been bought or finagled. Katy, as earnest as she was, seemed the type people might take advantage of. She was so sweet and trusting and open. A marked-down mouse, indeed. Why would a rival salon go to the trouble of bringing in a mouse with a red tag when they could have spooked the bull any number of ways? “So, if the rodeo is already over, why do you need another rider?”

“Because Miss Delilah raised a huge stink and called Marvella and told her that she knew she’d cheated and that if there wasn’t a rematch, she was going to burn the Never Lonely Cut-N-Gurls Salon to the ground.”

“She did that?” This didn’t sound like the woman who had come out to Malfunction Junction with twenty women and one baby, who had taken care of eleven cowboys and a truck driver during one of winter’s worst storms. That woman had seemed very sane and practical. “I’m having trouble with Miss Delilah being a lawbreaker and an arsonist.”

“We’ll never know, because her sister agreed to a rematch. The thing is, though, I think it’s a setup,”
Katy whispered, stopping to gaze up into his eyes. Laredo felt his heart go thud and then boom as he tried to inhale. Then exhale. Katy’s eyes widened, drawing him in. “I think a red-lined mouse was child’s play to Marvella. Call me gullible if you will, and trusting, but I was recently duped by a girl who was just like a sister to me.”

“You don’t say,” Laredo breathed, trying real hard to sound surprised.

She nodded. “So I know what women are capable of.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“And I know Miss Delilah’s getting set up on this.”

“What could Marvella do?”

Katy’s gaze swept over his shoulders and then across his chest. “I don’t know. But she will send her girls to steal my hero.”

His mouth dried out at the thought of a bunch of women coming after him with their feminine lures. It wasn’t an altogether unhappy vision.

But the words from Katy’s mouth had perked up his heart. He could be her hero. He could do it. He was not the kind of guy to make a promise and then cut and run.

“You can count on me,” he said.

“You’ll ride Bloodthirsty Black?” she asked on a gasp.

“I’ll probably get stomped by his brightly painted hooves, but then at least everybody will know about the hard-wired bull Miss Delilah’s got for sale. Then
the charities will be happy, and a restaurant will be happy, and some FFA kids will be happy—”

“
I’ll
be happy.” She threw her arms around his neck by launching her small body up against his chest, leaving about twelve inches dangling between her feet and the sidewalk. “Thank you, Laredo. I knew I could count on you!”

He would call Mason tomorrow, he thought, and get some tips on how to stay on a beast from hell. Right now he was just going to stand here and smell Katy Goodnight’s perfume, and try not to think about how sweet a girl like her would be in his bed.

And then again, maybe thinking about how sweet she’d be in his bed was exactly why he’d said he’d ride her darn bull. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d probably get stomped.

“So,” he said into her hair as he held her against him, “what happened to the mouse?”

“I rescued her,” Katy murmured. “When Bloodthirsty kicked in the stall, she ran out, and I scooped her up before she could run into another stall to get crushed by a different bull.”

“Her?”

“There are only girls in our salon. We named her Rose, and she sleeps in a little box beside my bed.”

Oh, boy. “Lucky mouse,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I just can’t wait to ride that bull,” he fibbed.

“Think you can stay on eight seconds?”

He squeezed her to him, breathing in deeply.
“I’m positive I have much longer than eight seconds in me.”

“Really?”

“Well,” he said hastily, switching gears from sexual to realistic, “I don’t expect I’ll be that good.”

She smiled at him luminously. “Since it’s your first time and all.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking in his neck like a double knot on a child’s tennis shoe. “Yeah.”

“Do you have a place to stay for the night, Laredo?”

His throat tightened. Was he about to receive an invitation of the best sort? “No.”

“Then you can sleep in my room.”

Heaven! Hallelujah! Doing something big in his life was turning out to be so easy. Why hadn’t he been adventuresome sooner?

“And I’ll sleep with Miss Delilah,” she continued.

His enthusiasm withered like day-old soda pop. He set her down on the concrete. “I’d hate to put you out.”

“It’s the least I can do for the man who’s going to single-handedly save our salon.”

He nodded jerkily, trying to look appreciative.

“And we’re fixing wilted lettuce and greens for dinner.”

He pasted a smile on his face, thinking that if the menu was always so green and healthy, he wouldn’t
have to ride Bloodthirsty Black. He’d just gnaw the steak-on-the-hoof to death and chalk up an easy win that way. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“Let’s go back and tell everyone what you’ve decided,” Katy said, delighted.

“Oh, yes. By all means,” he agreed reluctantly. Longingly he glanced across the street, where a stunning blonde was deliberately trying to catch his gaze through the window. She was wearing a red shirt tied at the waist, and, even at this distance, he could tell she was a very healthy girl. To his surprise, she held a sign to the window that read Free Meal to Travelers in bold red, glittery letters.

Beside him Katy floated along, oblivious to the exchange. To be polite—because he’d only heard one side of the story, after all—he tipped his straw western hat to the blonde and then shook his head in the negative.

Fair was fair, and no matter how bright the invitation across the way—even if they served steak and mashed potatoes—he was going to be a man Katy could trust.

“So what exactly was the big problem?” Hannah Hotchkiss asked as she walked into Katy’s bedroom.

“Problem?” Katy asked, eyeing her best friend and companion stylist warily.

“The one Laredo mentioned. By the time the two of you returned from your walk, you had a yes out of him, and he was wearing a distinctly cattywhumpussed expression.”

“A minor detail,” Katy murmured. “Nothing that was truly a problem.” She wasn’t about to share the worrisome detail that their knight in shining armor lacked experience in the saddle.

“I think you’ve caught that man’s eye.”

Katy glanced up, horrified. “Do not say that. He is not my type at all.”

“What is your type?”

Stanley came to mind, but Katy tossed that thought violently out of her brain. “I haven’t figured it out yet. But I’m certain I’ll know it when I see it.” She blew her bangs away from her forehead.
“These bangs will not grow fast enough to suit me.”

“Why are you letting them grow out? They suit your face and showcase your eyes.”

“I look like a little girl. I don’t want to look like that anymore.” She handed a picture to her friend of a model dressed like a ballerina, her hair pulled away from her face in a severe topknot. “That’s the way I want to look.”

“Like you haven’t had a good meal in a month?”

Katy snatched the paper back. “Elegant. Sophisticated.”

“Like you don’t give a damn.”

“Exactly.” Katy nodded. “I don’t.”

“Now you just have to convince yourself.”

“Right.”

“What a bozo that Stanley must have been.” Hannah sighed and got to her feet. “Listen, pulling your hair back until you look like a scarecrow isn’t going to give you the mature edge you’re looking for.”

“You have a suggestion for maturing a permanent baby face?”

“No. The baby face is not the problem—and, by the way, it’s called a cute face. There’s nothing baby about you. Your challenge is to become more daring.
Daring.
Remember that word.”

Katy raised a brow.

“You’re masking your real worry by making it a hair issue, something all women do, and sometimes men, as well. The key is to face the issue dead-on,
and pin it on the body part where it actually belongs. It’s never a hair issue. Could be the brain, could be the breasts, could be your—”

“I don’t need a body catalogue,” Katy interrupted.

“So, where’s your real issue?”

“My heart.”

“Not possible. Choosing the heart is a stall tactic. It means you’re still transposing and referring your denial. The heart is not part of the equation, as it is only a label for people’s emotions. A visual, if you will.”

“I don’t know if I will or not.” Katy groaned, unwilling to go down the path. “My womanhood,” she finally said. “If I’d been more of a woman, even Becky couldn’t have gotten Stanley away from me.”

“That’s a myth, you know. Women successfully steal men all the time. It doesn’t take much effort.”

“I will never believe that. There are a few men out there who have antitheft devices on their hearts.”

“Yes, but we’re not talking about their hearts, and I have it on good authority that antitheft devices do not fit on a man’s p—”

“All right!” Katy interrupted. “So any man is ripe for the picking. Then what’s the point of me trying to overcome
my
issue if
their
issue is unsolvable?”

“Because once you develop more confidence, your chance of a man ever straying from you is dramatically diminished. You put a certain amount of
color on a lady’s hair to diminish her gray, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Katy said uncertainly.

“Well, you have to wear confidence to attract and keep someone you love. Become a bright, new color. Remember our new word—
daring.
”

“Lack of confidence was not why Stanley married Becky.”

“He did that because he was already at the church, the guests had flown in, his mother was wearing Bob Mackie, and you, my sweet gullible angel, had footed the bill as the bride. Plus, he still had a smile on his face from what had occurred in the bridal changing room. Strategically, if he couldn’t wait another five minutes or so to enjoy your virginity, I’m thinking he didn’t have much staying power for the long haul. Not that I’m judging him, exactly, since I have never met him. However, sometimes actions speak louder than words, and I sincerely believe your wedding day was one of those loud action moments.” Hannah examined her nails casually. “By the way, you
are
going to send his parents a bill for the wedding.”

Katy gasped. “Maybe Stanley and Becky, but not his parents!”

“No way. His parents are filthy rich and worried about impressions. You got the shaft and they’ll be anxious to make certain you don’t pay for their son’s cruel indiscretion, lest you tell someone important like…Dear Abby. Oprah, even. The whole matter sounds very Jerry Springer to me. That’ll hit Stan
ley’s parents where they panic, and they’ll certainly cough up what you’re owed.”

Katy flushed, hating the humiliation she’d suffered that day. “I want to keep it quiet. Forget about it. Move on.”

“You are
not
as confident as you could be, Katy,” Hannah said softly. “And under the circumstances, I understand. But by the time I’m finished with you, confidence will radiate from you!”

She wondered what Laredo saw radiating from her. Messy ponytail and no lipstick—probably all he saw was a dull aura. “Okay, do your darnedest. I guess.”

Hannah lifted Katy’s ponytail and ran it through her hand; Katy could practically hear her friend’s creative brain whirring away.

Sighing, she reminded herself that she’d come to work at the Lonely Hearts Salon for just this reason. She needed the emotional support of women to help her get over her deepest fear: that she was sexually dysfunctional. Truth was, it hadn’t been all that hard to keep her virginity. She had never felt a point-of-no-return reason to surrender it. But her best friend was talking about men as if they were as easy to pick as a dessert from a menu, and for Katy that would never be the case. It would take a kind and gentle man eons to teach her any differently. “I’m like Rapunzel. Locked in my own ivory tower.”

“I think you should experiment on Laredo Jefferson, Katy. I believe romancing that man could
knock a few bricks out of your tower. Rattle the foundation a bit.”

Katy shook her head. “The last person who could ever save me from myself would be the freewheeling Laredo Jefferson. I’ve been to his home at the Malfunction Junction Ranch, and his family is wild and woolly. Fun, but too much for a girl like me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, someone once told me that an ivory tower is really a phallic symbol—in Laredo’s case, I’d believe it! And right now, this is just a stop on his eastward hunt for adventure, so I’d never dream of allowing him to scale my walls. Even if he wanted to.”

“See, there you go again.
If.
Of course he does!”

“Do you really think so?” Katy asked doubtfully.

“A man does not agree to ride a bull unless he’s fairly sure there’s a helluva prize waiting for him once he’s hit the dirt, honey.”

Katy straightened. “I don’t think of myself in those terms.”

“Wait till I’m done with you. You’ll be thinking Scarlet O’Hara by Saturday. I promise.”

“Scarlet O’Hara was a flirt, a maneater,” Katy protested.

“Exactly.”

“Y
OU’RE DOING WHAT
?” Mason shouted in Laredo’s ear over the phone. “Have you clean lost your mind?”

Laredo pictured Katy’s concerned face. “Not lost
it, just temporarily misplaced it, maybe. Mason, I need some tips.”

“You want a phone course in killing yourself by stupidity.”

“Someone has to do this, and it’s going to be me.”

“Obviously,” Mason muttered. “This is not what I thought you meant when you said you were heading back east for adventure. You’ve barely left the county!”

“You know what they say about one’s own backyard.”

“Oh, hell.” There was an audible sigh from the other end of the line. “I guess I’ll send Tex over with the gear you’re going to need.”

“Tex won’t want to be torn away from his roses right now,” Laredo warned. “He’s right in the middle of preparing for the oncoming spring season.”

“I’ll hire Martha Stewart to baby-sit his buds,” Mason growled. “In the meantime, Tex can come out there and share his vast knowledge with you.”

Somehow, the idea of his twin coming out and spending time around Katy wasn’t altogether appealing. “Well—”

“I can’t give you pointers by phone, if you’re determined to do this. What’s the name of the bull, by the way?”

“Bloodthirsty Black.”

“Is he a first-night bull or a marquee bull?”

Laredo scratched his head. “He’s an unknown
quantity. The last cowboy who was supposed to ride him had a change of plans.”

“Maybe he was smart.”

Any man who chose having sex over bull riding probably had some sense. Laredo squinted around Katy’s room. Her bed was unrumpled and covered with a clean, white cotton bedspread. There were white lace curtains floating at the open window. Beside her bed, Rose the mouse stared up at Laredo, her pink-flesh ears and tiny paws quivering. She was smaller than his little finger, and for a mouse, quite adorable. Her red price tag was stuck on the side of her wire-covered box as a pretend welcome mat. Katy had drawn a door above the welcome mat, and placed paper lace cutouts around fake windows. Laredo sighed to himself, then sat straight up as he realized something white and lacy was poking out from under Katy’s pillow.

Gingerly, he tugged the lace. It left its hiding place with a smooth, gliding flash of froth. Holding it up, he realized it was sheer, it was very short, and Katy slept in this at night. His pulse raced as he glanced toward the door. He was pretty certain Katy wouldn’t appreciate walking in and finding him with her nightgown in his hands and very little room left in his jeans.

“Laredo?” Mason’s voice asked in his ear. “Laredo!”

Having sex or riding a bull.

He hadn’t been offered sex. But occasionally a lucky hero got gifted with such a prize. Shoving the
nightgown back under the pillow, he said, “I’m riding that bull, Mason, come hell or high water.”

“D
ID YOU GIRLS NOTICE
the new man in town?” Marvella asked as she stared out at her sister’s salon.

“Did we ever!” her girls chorused.

“Looked like a
real
cowboy to me,” Marvella said. “I so love cowboys! I do wonder how Delilah keeps coming up with these timely miracles.”

“I’ve got first dibs,” a stylish brunette called. “It’s my turn for a new customer.”

“Honey, he’s not a customer till you convince him he is,” someone corrected her. “And all’s fair in love until the moment one of us closes the bedroom door.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s over just because the door closes,” someone said. “If I recall, one of you managed to be in the bed waiting, while you had a fake phone call downstairs for the girl he thought he was going to be spending the night with.”

A few giggles went round the room, and a redhead in the corner blushed uncomfortably. “I should have known it was a trick. Extra points for creativity, especially since he didn’t seem to mind the switch,” she said.

“Well, this cowboy isn’t going to get his eight seconds onboard Bloodthirsty Black. If Delilah wants to be humiliated twice, we can accommodate her,” Marvella said. “But we can’t be obvious, because I can guarantee you, he’s been told in detail how truly mean, unkind and positively sex-starved
we are. Delilah will be extracautious this time.” She tapped long fingernails against the windowsill. “In four days. I don’t want him to even lay a leg over Bloodthirsty Black. This calls for sweetness and light, and dainty coincidence.”

“Dainty?”

“Did you see that he was escorting Katy Goodnight on a walk? That’s dainty as powdered sugar on a doughnut,” Marvella pointed out.

“If her fiancé ditched her at the altar and married her best friend, she’s got something missing in her sugar bowl,” someone suggested. “Dainty is not always delightful.”

“Okay,” Marvella said with a snap of her fingers. “I’ve got just the plan.”

“Is it dainty?”

She smiled as she watched the lights coming on inside her sister’s salon. “No,” she said. “It’s a doozy.”