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.
Chapter Two
“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
