clients. He lived in Lyndon Valley only part-time, so she could usually arrange to put in her hours for Active Equipment at his Chicago head office or at her own law office on the Chicago River.
“Caleb’s a cowboy,” said Astra. “He doesn’t use small words.”
“I was generalizing,” Danielle admitted.
On a night like tonight, she needed to take every opportunity to remind herself there was a world of difference between her and Travis Jacobs. She was closer to Randal in background, values, temperament and, of course, profession.
She’d dated Randal in law school, breaking up with him at graduation when he secured a prime internship in D.C. and she had accepted the offer in Chicago. He’d wanted to stay together, but she knew it wouldn’t work out. Long-distance relationships never did. Plus, she hadn’t been convinced he was the one. He was close, and she couldn’t exactly say what was missing. But her instincts had told her to end it.
Randal had not been happy with the split. Not that he had anything to complain about the way things turned out. He was rising fast on the D.C. legal scene. The firm he worked for, Nester and Hedley, had clients that included senators, congressmen and captains of international industry. Danielle’s Chicago job was bush-league by comparison.
Which made it strange that a partner from Nester and Hedley had contacted her last week, making her an offer that was all but impossible to refuse. She could only assume Randal had a hand in it, and she didn’t know whether to thank him or berate him.
The job would give her a chance to build toward an equity partnership in a prestigious, cutting-edge firm. Any lawyer would jump at that. But she didn’t want to be beholden to Randal. And she didn’t want to date him again. Maybe she was being ridiculously conceited, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that would turn out to be part of the package.
“Good evening, ladies,” drawled a male voice.
She glanced up to see a vaguely familiar man in a black cowboy hat, a blue-and-green Western shirt and faded blue jeans. A split second later, she caught sight of Travis slightly behind him, worn Stetson low on his brow, face tanned brown, a challenging glint in his cobalt eyes.
She was honestly too tired for this.
“Are you from the rodeo?” asked Nadine, glancing from one to the other.
“We are,” the stranger answered.
Astra pointed to Travis. “He’s the guy who won, isn’t he?”
“Are you a bull rider, too?” Nadine chirped to the other man.
“I’m a bullfighter.”
“So, one of the clowns?” she asked.
“There’s a big difference between a clown and a bullfighter, ma’am. For example.” He jabbed this thumb toward Travis. “I saved this guy’s life tonight.”
“I saw that,” Odette put in knowingly.
“Nice buckle.” Nadine had turned her attention and her brilliant smile to Travis. She reached out and touched the shiny, gold and silver prize at his waist.
Danielle couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the bling. Really? He had to wear it?
“This is Travis Jacobs,” the stranger introduced, removing his hat. “He’s tonight’s bull riding champion. And I’m Corey Samson, bullfighter extraordinaire.”
“Did he really save your life?” Odette asked Travis on a note of awe. Danielle knew the question was more about flirting than any true amazement at Corey’s feat.
Corey looked to Travis and waited.
“He most certainly did,” Travis acknowledged staunchly. “Bullfighters are highly skilled, highly trained, and among the bravest men on the planet.”
The word wingman flitted through Danielle’s brain. Travis was trying to help his friend pick up Odette.
Nadine turned to her. “That wasn’t short sentences and small words.”
Travis’s challenging gaze turned on Danielle. It was clear he remembered her using that particular phrase in the past.
“It was a generalization,” she repeated, refusing to break eye contact with him.
“That’s very impressive,” Odette told Corey with an almost comical flutter of her eyelashes.
“Danielle is continuously unequivocal in her elevated specifications for interactive discourse,” said Travis, keeping his expression completely neutral.
“How does he know your name?” Astrid immediately demanded.
“We met in Colorado,” said Travis.
“Briefly,” Danielle pointed out.
“Dance?” Corey asked Odette.
“Love to.” She giggled as she came to her feet.
“Dance?” Travis asked Danielle.
“Too busy with my drink,” she responded airily, lifting her long-stemmed glass.
“I’ll dance with you,” Nadine chimed in with obvious enthusiasm, holding out a hand.
“Ma’am,” Travis answered her, gallantly tipping his hat, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.
“You know a real live bull riding champion?” Astrid asked Danielle as the two couples left the covered deck for the dance floor inside, and Danielle concentrated on not looking at Travis’s rear end.
“He’s not a champion.” Danielle went ahead and finished off the martini. “He only does it as a hobby.”
“He’s pretty good.”
“That’s what happens when you spend your entire life on a ranch in Lyndon Valley.”
Astrid seemed confused by Danielle’s tone. “You hold that against him?”
“What I hold against him is that he’s annoying and incredibly full of himself. To hear him talk, differentiating between a Hereford and a Black Angus is the only knowledge relevant to mankind.”
Astrid was obviously fighting a grin. “Did you mix the two up?”
Danielle sighed. “They do look a lot alike.”
Astrid chuckled.
“He mocks me,” Danielle elaborated. “All the time, on every level. And we only ever see each other at the ranch, so I’m always out of my element, and he has the advantage.”
“You’re a Harvard graduate.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t let him get to you.”
“I don’t.”
“I
