Christyne Butler - Destiny's Last Bachelor?

“Okay, I get why you’ve abandoned your plans for a getaway to the French Riviera with the jerk whose name we won’t ever mention again, but traveling solo through the Wild West instead?”

Solo? Priscilla looked over at the passenger seat, where her passenger snoozed away in a monogrammed sleeping bag on top of a tufted, lamb’s wool pillow. “Who said I was alone?”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you have Jacqueline’s ugly mutt—”

“Sebastian Niles A King’s Elegance is not ugly and he’s not a mutt. He’s a purebred smooth-coat Chihuahua my sister thought would make a cute fashion accessory before she realized a live animal requires actual care and feeding. And...love. Besides, I think the poor thing was as traumatized as I was by what we witnessed in that dressing room.”

“Su-gar,” Lisa drawled again, “are you sure about this?”

“About needing to get away from the craziness going on back home? Absolutely.” An odd thrill raced through her at the thought of having so much free time ahead of her. Yesterday the country had celebrated its independence. Now it was time for her to do the same. “I’ll visit Bobby and his wife for a few days, share some ideas I’ve worked up, and then who knows where I’ll head next. Maybe Chicago or New York. Or a deserted tropical island with no media access.”

“Well, wherever you end up, please remember to check in. I’ll be up to my false eyelashes finalizing samples for next spring’s collection, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here to listen to your wild adventures.”

Priscilla snorted. “I think you’ve got the wrong sister.”

“Oh, no, I think you’re destined for something wild. And wicked. You need to let down your hair and have some fun. And I mean that literally.”

Priscilla automatically brought her hand up to the tightly wound roll at the back of her head. “I don’t have the top up. The wind will make it a mess.”

“That’s the point of having a convertible. Don’t tell me you can’t remove a simple hair clip.”

Of course she could. Priscilla had been wearing her hair in a Fresh twist style for so long she could put it up, and take it down, in her sleep. It’d been a style her mother favored, which meant Priscilla had always rebelled against it.

Until she wore it for the funeral. And every day since, it seemed. No, that couldn’t be right. Her mother had been gone for fourteen years. Okay, so maybe she’d wore her hair this way ever since she started working at the foundation her junior year in college.

After a flip of her wrist, the warm summer wind took hold of her long locks, lifting and brushing them back from her face and neck. A quick glance in her review mirror revealed how different she looked.

“Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

Priscilla had to admit her friend was right. “How did you know I did it?”

“I heard you sigh.”

“It’s just hair, Lisa.”

“It’s a start. Next up? Something wild and wicked. Just you wait and see.”

The conviction in her friend’s words brought forth a genuine laugh this time before she thanked Lisa for being so wonderful and ended the call.

* * *

By five o’clock that afternoon, Priscilla was exhausted. She had a cramp in her foot and her backside felt as if it was stuck to the leather seat beneath her. Plus, her sidekick was wide-awake and doing enough butt wiggling that it could only mean one thing.

Her car’s navigation system told her the center of Destiny was still twenty miles away. Thanks to an internet search on her phone, she’d booked a room at a local inn, but her four-legged friend didn’t look as if he could wait until they arrived to take care of business. After passing an impressive compound of log homes, she spotted a side road that led to a wide area near the river they’d just crossed. She drove there and pulled to a stop in the shade from a cluster of trees, shut down the engine and got out of the car.

“Don’t get lost,” she called out, peeling off her suit jacket as the pup headed straight for the woods. “This isn’t like the manicured lawns of Beverly Hills.”

Making her way to the water’s edge was a bit tricky in her three-inch heels, but as soon as she found an oversize rock to sit on, Priscilla slipped out of her shoes and dipped her aching toes in the crystal blue waters. “I need to wear flats the next time I plan an escape.”

Unable to resist, she stood and waded in farther, pleased to find the creek’s bottom wasn’t as rocky or muddy as she’d thought it would be. She looked around, noticing a rope hanging from a tree that arched over the water. The clearing was obviously well used. It was easy to picture a group of kids or a family enjoying a picnic here, but at the moment it was only her. With the cold water swishing past her calves and a light breeze caressing her bare arms, Priscilla reveled in the solitude of the natural surroundings, feeling as if she’d drawn her first deep breath in months.

No ringing phones, no disapproving fathers or whiny excuses from her sister, no annoying clicking and flashing from the paparazzi’s cameras...

Just peace and quiet.

* * *

“Honey, I’m a man who needs female companionship.”

Dean Zippenella hoped he sounded sincere, but a part of him knew he’d already lost this argument. Usually he had no problem when it came to charming the ladies, but this one—his favorite one—was stubbornly quiet in the passenger seat of his truck.

“Look, you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, over and over again, and while I love our alone time, I’d like to bring a friend to the house once in a while without worrying you’re going to do something crazy.”

He tried to catch her gaze, but a quick turn of the head revealed that she was staring out the half-open window.

“You know, it’s more than just your unpleasant attitude. It’s your very unladylike behavior that gets you in the most trouble.”

That got him a tilt of her nose that looked almost regal.

“Do I need to list them for you?” Dean kept one hand on the steering wheel and used the other to tick off the all-too-familiar offenses. “Peeing on their clothes, hiding their shoes, chewing on whatever you can scrounge out of their purses, including feminine products that no man should ever see.”

Daisy turned to face him, offered a quick bark, and darn if the corners of her mouth didn’t turn up into a cocky grin. Then he remembered the latest mischief. “And yes, that includes the cash you always manage to get out of their wallets.”

His last guest had shrieked when she spotted the contents of her purse scattered at the dog’s feet and the mangled remains of a twenty-dollar bill hanging from Daisy’s mouth. Dean could’ve sworn the mischievous furball had been grinning then, as well.

That had been, what, almost two months ago? He’d tried to pay back the twenty dollars but the woman took offense. As if he’d been offering to pay for the time they’d enjoyed together or something. He’d been a lonely man after that. Something that hadn’t happened much since he’d moved to Destiny, Wyoming, a few years ago.

The ladies liked him—or they used to—and he’d never been at a loss for company. As long as he spent time at their places. Once they got an invite back to his home and met Daisy, they quickly discovered Daisy had no qualms about showing just how she felt about human females.

She didn’t like them. Any of them. Not even the women who meant the most to him. His grandmother, mother and three sisters, who’d all tried to win Daisy’s affections when Dean had shown up at the family home in New Jersey, his duffel bag in one hand and a puppy in the other, after a stint in the army.

While the scraggly mutt he’d saved from a harrowing life in the Middle East had been devoted to him over the years and was friendly with any males she came across, she never changed her mind about the ladies.