her eyes. “We’re not talking about going into a war zone in a foreign country. It’s downtown Wimberley, for gosh sakes. What are you going to wear, Skye?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. Do you think the place will mind if I bring Gus?”
“I’m sure they won’t,” Flora said. “Gabe, why don’t you call to be sure? And for good measure, perhaps a couple of the guards could be there, too.”
Gabe hesitated for a moment. “Skye, if you’d like to try it, I’ll make the arrangements.”
Inside, her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a handful of marbles, but she fought to contain her nervousness and managed a smile. “Maybe I could try it for an hour.”
Gabe nodded. “I’ll take care of things.”
WHEN SAM OPENED THE DOOR to his place, Pookie met him, dancing around his feet and yapping until he picked her up. “How’s it going, girl? You keep the burglars out?”
She wiggled and licked his face.
“Not on the mouth, Pookie. Not on the mouth.” He held her away, then put her down, but she wasn’t deterred. Excited, she circled his feet as he made his way to his bedroom, where he dumped a handful of junk mail into the trash.
The light was flashing on his answering machine. He hoped it wasn’t Skye canceling their date tonight.
It wasn’t Skye’s voice he heard on the playback. It was Gabe’s. And from all the arrangements he’d made, you’d think they were preparing for a presidential visit instead of going dancing at a local honky-tonk.
“And you’ve been invited,” Sam said to the dog. “Want to go play with Tiger tonight?”
Pookie barked. She seemed to be ready and willing.
Sam took a quick shower, put on his dancing duds and pinned his star on his shirt. He clipped his gun on his belt and scooped up the dog. “Let’s boogie.”
SKYE CHANGED CLOTHES four times. And her hair wouldn’t do anything right, even though the short cut had always suited her fine. She could step out of the shower, towel it dry, finger comb it and be ready to go. Wouldn’t you know that her mop had picked that evening to act up? It looked as if she’d stuck her finger in the proverbial light socket—except the left side, which was flattened to her head.
She’d finally settled on a pink patterned tee with a sprinkle of sequins that her mother had given her for her birthday last year and a comfortable pair of jeans and boots. But her hair! How could she go anywhere looking the way she did?
There was a tap on her door. “Skye?” her mother said. “Are you dressed? Sam’s here.”
She flung open the door. “I can’t go. My hair is a mess. Just look at it.”
“Calm down, dear. I think your hair looks cute, except for right here.” She patted the left side. “Do you have any gel?”
“Heavens, no.”
“I’ll be right back.” Her mother hustled out, stopping long enough to shout downstairs, “We’ll be down in a minute.”
Skye felt so foolish—like a teenager on her first date. The idea of going out into a mob of strangers was nerve-racking enough. Add the fluster of trying to dress for the evening, and her anxiety level was off the chart. Why had she ever agreed to such a thing?
That was easy. Sam Outlaw. The thought of him made her toes tingle.
She could do this. She could.
Her mother returned with a basket of stuff. “I thought you went after some gel.”
“I did,” Flora said. “Sit down here.”
Skye sat down at the desk in her sitting room, and her mother squirted and sprayed gunk on her hair and picked and poked at it.
“Finished?” Skye asked.
“Not quite. Wait a minute until that dries. It looks really cute.”
“Let me see.” Skye started to rise, but Flora put a hand on her shoulder.
“Be patient for a moment, dear. Close your eyes.”
She felt a brush across her lids. “What are you doing? That’s not eye shadow, is it? I don’t wear eye shadow.” She felt another brush across her cheeks. “Or blush. I don’t want to look like a clown.”
“It’s just a touch, dear. Close your eyes again, please. And don’t wiggle so.”
“Is that mascara? Good Lord, I’ll look like a raccoon.”
Flora tittered. “No you won’t. Open your mouth just a tad. And don’t get upset, it’s only pink lip gloss. There. Now you can look.”
Skye hurried to the bathroom mirror, expecting to see something akin to a hooker, but she was shocked. Her hair looked kind of spikey and not too bad, and the makeup was subtle and very flattering. When she rejoined Flora, she bent and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
Flora beamed. “You’re welcome, dear. You look lovely. Here, slip this in your pocket.” She held out a tube of lip gloss.
The final stamp of approval came when she went downstairs and into the den, where Sam had joined Gabe for a drink.
He stood and a smile spread over his face as he looked at her. “Wow,” he said.
Her stomach settled, and a warm glow stole over her. Wow, indeed. It was Sam who was wow material. He wore a starched white shirt with the cuffs rolled back and low-slung jeans that emphasized his long waist and slim hips. His shoulders seemed enormous. With his star pinned to his shirt and his gun clipped to his belt, he looked every inch the tough Texas Ranger. Until he smiled in that infectious way he had.
“Ready to go boot-scootin’?” he asked, sidling toward her with a playful shake of his hips.
She chucked. “You’ll have to feed me first.”
“I’ll get the car,” Gabe said. “We’ll pick up Belle on the way.”
DINNER WAS GREAT. They ate at a small Mexican restaurant where she had eaten many times, so there wasn’t a problem. Except to wonder where Sam put all those enchiladas.
Walking across the street to Fancy’s was a different story. It was night, and cars were parked everywhere, casting hulking shadows and providing hiding places for God knew who. That terrible feeling of vulnerability stole over Skye. Halfway there her knees began to wobble, and she felt a familiar prickly, sweaty feeling in her scalp. She heard the band playing and several “yee-haws” coming from the place, and her knees shook worse. A big lump rose in her throat and she tried to swallow it back down. She could do this. She could. Dammit, she could!
She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.
“Doing okay?” Sam asked softly.
She smiled. “Doing fine.”
He
