How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart Read online

  She couldn’t stop the tears that came. Lily went to the back and brought out a chair and she sank into it, covering her face with her hands. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t dress shopping that was stressing her out. It was looking at her scars, day in and day out. Seeing one “normal” side and the other ravaged by the surgeon’s knife. Now she was supposed to go to this wedding—with Clay!—and the last thing she felt was pretty and feminine.

  She finally caught her breath and blew her nose into the tissue Jen offered. She had needed to do that for a long time. Tears were something she hadn’t indulged in during her treatment and it seemed now that the worst was over those emotions were coming out bit by bit. She’d felt fragile for weeks, but now she felt better, less tangled up, more ready to tackle the job ahead. “I’m sorry, you guys. I’ve felt so self-conscious, so afraid, that I’ve avoided everyone. I should have come to you before.”

  “You came when you were ready,” Jen answered simply, squatting down next to Meg’s chair and putting a hand on her knee. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. Just remember we’ve always got your back.”

  Those were the exact words Clay had used and Meg’s pulse gave a little kick. “I feel ugly,” she admitted. “My hair is like a boy’s and so is…” She swallowed. “Let’s just say my bikini days are long gone.”

  “You are so not ugly. The shorter hair makes your eyes pop and highlights your cheekbones. And honestly—no one can tell about the other.”

  “I used to be comfortable in my own skin.”

  Lily nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s a problem. It’s hard to be sexy when you don’t feel sexy.”

  Meg’s lashes snapped up. “Sexy? I never said anything about wanting to be sexy!”

  “Every woman wants to feel confident and pretty, Meg. Besides, you’re going to want a dance partner aren’t you? You can’t dance with your daddy all night.”

  Meg’s insides curled with embarrassment. “I’ll dance with Drew and Noah and Dawson, too.”

  Jen sighed. “Meg.”

  Meg stood up. She didn’t want to be pitied or patronized. “Are you saying no one will want to dance with me?”

  Jen shrugged and looked away.

  Meg lifted her chin. “I’ll dance with Clay, after all we’re going together.”

  Her mouth clamped shut as soon as the words were out. Lily and Jen looked at each other and grinned and Meg realized she’d been played—and she’d fallen straight into their trap. They’d wanted to prompt her into a reaction and it had worked. She wished she could take the words back. Now they’d be inventing a romance where there was none.

  “So, you’re going with Clay,” Lily said speculatively.

  “Just as friends,” Meg tried to explain. “He didn’t have a date and neither did I and Stacy put the fear of God in him about being a target for singles.”

  “Which he definitely is. He’s gorgeous.” Jen grinned. “Hey, I still have eyes,” she defended when Lily gave her arm a nudge.

  Meg remembered a time when Clay and Dawson had rescued Drew and Jen during a snowstorm. Drew had been pretty clear about marking his territory, and he and Jen had been stuck together like glue ever since. Drew didn’t have a thing to worry about and they all knew it.

  “It’s not a date date,” she insisted. “For heaven’s sake, he still calls me Squirt.”

  “Would you like it to be? A date date?”

  Jen’s quiet question threw Meg for a loop. She’d never said a word about her feelings for Clay to anyone. And she’d given up on him ages ago. The flutters she’d gotten lately meant nothing. And yet the idea of knocking his socks off held a certain appeal. What would it be like to feel like a real woman again? Was that even possible?

  “Clay doesn’t think of me that way,” she reiterated.

  “That’s because he only sees you in jeans and boots,” Lily said, casting an appraising glance over Meg’s clothing. “Functional for ranch work, but not so great for snaring a man.”

  “I am not looking to snare anyone!”

  “Here she goes, protesting again.”

  She wasn’t taking the bait this time. She knew her work wear was functional, but it also did a fine job of concealing shapes she wanted to conceal. “All teasing aside, you two, I just want a nice, pretty dress that covers what I need to have covered to feel comfortable. As far as Clay Gregory goes, I’m to be his dinner partner and a friend to rescue him from the clutches of Lisa Hamm, apparently.”

  Jen and Lily both smiled. “I think we’ve given her a hard enough time, don’t you?” Lily asked Jen, nudging her with her elbow. She smiled at Meg. “That’ll teach you for giving us the brush-off.”

  “I never meant…”

  “Hush,” Lily said kindly. “We’re going to find you a beautiful dress, Meg. And if we don’t, I’ll make you one. I can accomplish a lot in three weeks.”

  Jen put her arm around Meg’s shoulders. “Consider us your fairy godmothers,” she added. “Your debut back into Larch Valley society will be a smash hit. I’m thinking red, Lil, how ’bout you?”

  For the first time in months, Meg felt the tiniest bit pretty. As her best friends led her to the next rack, she thought about Clay, his saucy smirk, and how gratifying it would be to wipe it off his face. She could do this. She would. It was time she set the tone for the rest of her life and it was time that tone was one of success. Maybe a dress and a wedding didn’t sound like much of a start, but she had to begin somewhere.

  “I like red,” Meg said clearly. She grinned as she imagined the look on Clay’s face when she showed up at Stacy’s wedding in a knockout dress and heels. He wouldn’t be able to accuse her of hiding away then. “What the heck, you guys. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”

  For the tenth time in as many minutes, Clay fiddled with his bow tie. He’d hoped Stacy would have gone in for a more casual Western wedding, where he could have worn his good boots and a bolo. At least then he might have felt slightly at home in this monkey suit. But no, she’d gone for the whole hog. Black tuxedo, strangling bow tie, shoes so shiny he could see his reflection. The white rose boutonniere was pinned to his lapel courtesy of Meg’s mother, who’d been at the house helping the bride get ready. The pianist was playing something soft and classical for the arriving guests. Clay smiled tightly and nodded at a neighbor who had just arrived—in white shirt and bolo tie. “Isn’t he lucky,” Clay grumbled under his breath.

  He was nervous. Mike Schuyler, the groom, seemed more relaxed than Clay was, shaking hands with the minister and preparing to make his way to the front of the church. Clay checked his watch and adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. Stacy was due any second with Linda beside her. He’d caught a glimpse of the bride before he’d headed to the church. Stacy’s simple white dress suited her perfectly. It was hard to believe that the woman who’d raised him was getting married. He was thrilled for her. And he liked Mike.

  But giving her away was going to be difficult. She was, in all but one sense of the word, his mother. And placing his mother into another man’s keeping was a difficult thing to do.

  A hand clapped on to his shoulder. “God, you look like you could use a nip of something,” Dawson greeted him with a wide smile. “Relax. It’s not like you’re the one getting hitched.”

  Clay forced a smile. No, it wasn’t him. Thank God. This was torture enough. Standing up at the front of the church? It wasn’t likely that would ever happen. “Dawson. And Tara. You look great.”

  Tara smiled shyly at him and put her arm through Dawson’s. “Thanks, Clay.”

  If Dawson was here then Meg must be, too. Clay hadn’t seen her since last week when he’d popped over to the Briggs ranch to talk to Dawson about renting out a block of land for grazing. Meg’s words about the Briggs’s struggles had stayed with him and the arrangement would benefit both operations. Meg had been talking to the vet, her back to him and that awful ugly hat on her head. Before he left he’d quickly asked, “Are we still on for the wedding
?” She’d answered that she’d meet him at the church.

  What had he expected? It’s not like it was a real date. She was a friend. She was his wingman, right? She was going to help him get through the evening and he’d be by her side as she faced the town again. And at the barn she’d acted like it was nothing to her at all. He frowned a little.

  “Did Meg come with you?”

  Dawson’s grin widened. “She sure did.”

  “I think she went to the powder room,” Tara suggested.

  Dawson’s grin faded a touch. “I’ll admit I was surprised when she said you were going together.”

  Clay met Dawson’s steady gaze. “As friends without other dates. That’s all.”

  Dawson’s gaze was unerring. “Good. She needs support, you know? But not complications. Not after what she’s been through.”

  “And you consider me a complication?” Clay was tall but Dawson was a bit taller and right now it annoyed Clay a lot to have to look up at his best friend, especially when Dawson spoke with that hint of warning deepening his voice.

  “I’m just saying we all know your history, Clay. Be careful.”

  “It’s just Meg. Nothing to worry about, so you don’t need to act all big brother with me.”

  Dawson frowned. “Well, you haven’t seen her yet.” He nodded toward the foyer.

  Clay turned his head to scan the vestibule.

  She was there. Smiling and holding Agnes Dodds’s hand between her own and then turning away as they parted.

  Holy Mother Mary. The air seemed to leave Clay’s lungs as he stared at her. Where was the plain old Meg he remembered? The woman walking this way was stunning. More than stunning. She was…

  His brain seemed to tie in knots as she suddenly saw him and stopped. For the space of a heartbeat, their gazes clashed and her lips dropped open the tiniest bit. Full, sexy lips the exact same deep red hue as her dress. She gave a slow smile and his body tightened in response. When had she learned to do that? Why was he reacting this way? Sure, he’d noticed she was attractive but she wasn’t his type. She was his best friend’s little sister. Only she wasn’t, not today. Today he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was soft, sweet and sexy as hell.

  She began walking again and Clay had the strangest urge to run, only he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run to her or away from her. His gaze swept down to her hips, lightly swaying as she made her way past the gathering congregation to his side. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Megan. All he wanted right this moment was to put his hands on her slim hips and draw her close.

  Dawson’s hand gave a final tap on his shoulder but Clay barely registered the touch. She was only a few feet away now and he had to somehow untangle his tongue and be cool.

  Meg’s whole body felt on fire beneath the heat of Clay’s gaze.

  At first there’d been a jolt as their eyes met and recognition flared. Then had come the sweetest part—the utter surprise and approval she glimpsed in his face. She felt the glow of triumph as she smiled slowly and his dark eyes glittered at her in response. He stood up straighter. She saw Dawson say something by Clay’s shoulder, but Clay’s eyes never left hers.

  Today she felt as beautiful as she’d ever been, which under the circumstances felt tantamount to a miracle.

  Her confidence faltered slightly as she reached him and struggled to find the right thing to say. She’d seen his reaction to her appearance and she didn’t want to blow the moment by sounding stupid. In the end she managed a simple but inadequate sounding “Hi” as she looked up at him, grateful for once to have on heels. At least in her shoes her eyes were at a level with his strong, freshly shaved jaw.

  “You look…wow,” he finished, at a loss for words, and Meg felt her confidence come rushing back.

  “Thanks. Lily made the dress.”

  “It suits you.”

  Goose bumps erupted on her bare arms. She’d made noises about not going sleeveless but Lily had worked her magic with a soft wrap-style bodice and a demure V-neck that gathered into wide shoulder straps. The red velvet was soft and rich, and the fabric and construction were very pretty while managing to make Meg feel covered and comfortable. Jen had loaned her gold dangly earrings and a simple gold necklace. Megan couldn’t have felt more like a princess had she been the bride.

  Clay was staring at her oddly, the silence somewhat awkward but in a new, exciting sort of way. He put a hand lightly on her waist. “I need to go for now, Stacy’s arrived.”

  The spot where his fingers touched seemed to light on fire through the fabric, and she wasn’t sure but she thought she detected a bit of regret in his words. “And I need to find my seat.” The words came out sort of breathlessly and Meg bit down on her lip. There was knocking his socks off and there was making a fool of herself and the way she was feeling with his hand on her waist was treading on fool territory. It felt proprietary—and she liked it. Too much. She could get used to that feeling a bit too easily, and she reminded herself that this was a special day. This was not real life. Tomorrow she’d be back in faded jeans, out in the barns again.

  But, for today, she was determined to put her cares aside and enjoy every blessed moment.

  “I’ll see you after?”

  His warm eyes looked at her hopefully and she couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “I’m sure you’ll have other duties, like family pictures, that sort of thing. Why don’t I just meet up with you at the reception?”

  He looked like he wanted to say something more but she had to move, had to escape his touch before she did something silly. She’d achieved what she wanted. She was making a success of the afternoon, wasn’t she? There was no more to it than that.

  With a parting smile she drew away from his hand and walked toward the sanctuary doors. She swore she could feel his gaze on her back and she forced herself to take regular breaths. She wouldn’t look back at him. There was obvious, and then there was obvious.

  She took her seat beside her father and crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt. But for a moment she fiddled with the hem. It had gone far better than she’d dreamed. There was only one flaw in her plan. Later she was going to have to dance with Clay. Her skin still tingled where his hand had rested. If she reacted like this over a simple touch, what would happen when he held her in his arms?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CLAY couldn’t keep his eyes off Megan.

  After the ceremony he stopped and offered her his arm to exit the church. They parted ways after that—he to do the official wedding stuff he despised and Meg left for the reception hall with her dad. But the moment he entered the Cottonwood Inn for the reception he honed in on her again, standing with Noah and Lily Laramie, a stem glass of pink punch in her hand. Tom Walker approached the group and Clay heard Meg’s light laugh as he said something to her. Lord almighty, she was beautiful. How had he not noticed before? He wasn’t a fan of short hair; but her simple, sparse style seemed to make her face come alive. Maybe it was makeup—she was wearing the stuff after all, highlighting the sensuous curve of her lips, turning her eyes smoky and mysterious.

  Tom moved on, but not before he put his hand along the curve of Meg’s back and leaned forward to say something in her ear. Clay frowned as she laughed in response, feeling a spurt of jealousy and pushing it away. He was in trouble. Big, big trouble. His mind was wandering into all sorts of territories just watching her smile and mingle. It was that much worse because it was Meg. Lord knew he hadn’t been an angel over the last few years. He’d dated, but he’d stayed away from relationships and always made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything permanent.

  Even today was torture. He certainly didn’t dislike Mike, and he was thrilled his aunt was happy, but the idea of ’til death do us part always made Clay uneasy. He’d seen how quickly his dad had gone downhill after his mother had abandoned them both. What the cancer hadn’t destroyed, her desertion had finished. No one would ever have that much power over Clay. His dad had always been the strong one,
but not when it came to her. No, Clay was better off relying on himself.

  And now here was Megan, looking irresistible and awakening all of the protective urges he tried to keep locked down. If it were anyone else, he’d consider taking advantage of the situation, enjoying the night with no strings. But there were lines a man didn’t cross. Megan Briggs represented more than one of those lines. She was Dawson’s sister, she was his friend, and as much as it pained him to admit it, the fact that she’d had cancer scared the daylights out of him. Meg wasn’t a one-night-no-strings kind of girl, and it was more than enough to make him take a step back and keep his distance.

  They were supposed to be looking out for each other, but Meg didn’t exactly look like she needed his help. Instead she looked like a beautiful, exotic flower amidst a bouquet of weeds—and she seemed to be drawing the men’s attention like bees to honey.

  He should never have asked her here today.

  But he had asked her, in a misguided attempt to be there for her like she’d been there for him when times had been tough. He couldn’t just back away now and pretend he hadn’t. Whatever he was feeling, whatever she’d awakened in him—and it was feeling disturbingly like desire—he would simply lock it away. He’d asked her here as a friend and that was exactly how it was going to be.

  He made his way over to her and put on a smile. “I see you made it here just fine.”

  “I came with Dad.” She smiled up at him and that same weird tightening happened again. “He’s gone off to talk stock.”

  “Normally you’d be there with him.” Meg wasn’t the kind of girl who left the business to the men; she knew what she was about. It was one of the things he truly admired about her.

  “Today’s not an ordinary day,” she replied, taking a sip of punch. His gaze caught on her lips as they touched the glass.

  “It certainly isn’t,” he agreed, but his voice came out low and…dear Lord. Intimate. God. He was no better than Tom Walker with that silly, besotted look on his face. Clay cleared his throat but not before Meg’s eyes gleamed with mischief. Great. Bad enough he was reacting to her this way. But to have her notice made him feel ten times the fool.