blackmailing me?”
He shrugged. “Whatever works.”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked warily.
“Just grab a jacket and put on a pair of boots.”
Which, of course, told her absolutely nothing about what he had planned. “Look, Corey, I’m flattered that you’d go to such lengths to spend time with me, but I really don’t understand why.”
“There’s nothing to understand. I just think some time outside in the crisp, fresh air will help you feel better,” he assured her.
“I don’t know,” she hedged.
“Trust me.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Corey so much as she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. The attraction she felt whenever she was near him was both awesome and overwhelming.
As she went to get her jacket and boots, she couldn’t help but think he looked as relaxed and unself-conscious in the jeans and flannel he was wearing today as he had in the designer tux he’d worn for his brother’s wedding, making her curious to know which was the real Corey Traub. Not that it mattered. Her instinctive response to him was the same regardless of what he was wearing.
She didn’t understand the attraction. She’d always dated guys who were…more subtle, she decided. There was nothing subtle about Corey. He was blatantly and undeniably male.
And the way he filled out a pair of jeans made her want to sigh. The cowboy boots didn’t surprise her. He’d even worn a pair at the wedding, with his tux. But those boots had been polished, and these were battered and worn, like the hat on his head.
She’d never known a cowboy before she came to Montana. And even in the past few months, she’d never met any one like Corey.
He wasn’t just sexy. He was knock-the-breath-out-of-your-lungs sexy. And the way he smiled at her, he knew it.
She’d never liked arrogant men. Or maybe it was just that she’d always wondered why the men she’d known felt entitled to their arrogance. With Corey, there was no question of his entitlement. And it made her wonder, not for the first time, why he was interested in her.
She wasn’t oblivious to her own appeal. Over the years, she’d received a fair share of compliments on her appearance, and she knew how to play up her attributes—how to apply makeup so her blue eyes looked bluer, how to dress so that her curves seemed curvier, how to walk into a room so that heads turned in her direction.
Since coming to Thunder Canyon, however, she’d deliberately downplayed her appearance. She’d toned down her makeup and dressed to blend in rather than stand out. No one looked at her twice, and no one asked any questions. At least, not until Erika’s wedding.
When Erin agreed to be a bridesmaid, she’d been thinking that she could somehow hide beneath layers of pink organza ruffles. She should have remembered that her friend had exquisite taste and an eye for fashion. There had been no way to hide in the strapless satin gown that hugged her curves. And she could hardly refuse when the bride suggested that her maid of honor should have her hair and makeup professionally done.
The result was that, as she’d made her way up the aisle, she’d been aware of the attention focused on her—and the speculation. She recognized some of her regular customers from the Hitching Post who had never looked twice when she’d waited on their tables and others who she’d met through her duties at the resort. None of them seemed to realize who she was. And although she’d been all too aware that the groom’s brother wasn’t the only man who had been watching her, he was the only one she’d watched back.
Corey snapped his phone shut when Erin came back with her jacket and boots.
“Everything’s arranged,” he told her.
“What is everything?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“I don’t like surprises,” she warned, following him out the door.
“Everyone likes surprises,” he insisted.
She shook her head as she turned her key in the lock, engaging the deadbolt.
He slid an arm across her shoulders and steered her toward his truck. “What happened, darlin’? Were you traumatized by a clown jumping out of your cake on your fifth birthday?”
“Nothing so dramatic. I just like to have a plan, and I don’t like when things interfere with my plans.”
He opened the passenger-side door for her. “Didn’t John Lennon say something about life being what happens while you’re making other plans?”
“Maybe that worked for him,” she acknowledged, “but it’s a strange philosophy for a management consultant.”
“It’s not my business philosophy,” he told her. “But when I’m out of the office, I don’t like being shackled by rules and schedules.”
She stepped up into the truck, obviously thinking about his response. He closed her door, then went around to the driver’s side.
“My aunt died,” she finally said.
He paused in the act of inserting the key into the ignition. “Today? Is that why you called into work?”
She shook her head. “No. A few months ago.” She folded her hands, staring down at the fingers linked together in her lap. “You asked why I don’t like surprises. Her death was a surprise. And she gave me some information just before she passed that was…unexpected. I had so many questions that I never got to ask her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how hard it is to lose someone out of the blue, feeling as if you’d left something unresolved.”
She looked at him, as if surprised by his response. “Who did you lose?”
“My father.”
“I didn’t realize—” She frowned. “I should have. When you introduced your mother and her husband, I just assumed your parents were divorced.”
He shook his head. “My dad died in an explosion on an oil rig when I was eight. The last time I saw him, before he went to work that day, he swatted my butt for talking back to my mother. When he walked out the door, I was happy to see him go.”
She touched a hand to his arm, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle. “You were eight,” she reminded him.
“I know. I got over the guilt a long time ago but only after I’d carried it around for a lot of years first.” He frowned.
Her hand dropped away. “What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking that it’s mighty easy to talk to you.”
“It is?”
“I haven’t ever told anyone that story. Not anyone outside of the family, anyway.”
“Sometimes
