Ruth Dale - The Cowgirl's Man

Cleavon, working behind the bar, waved her over. Rosie was definitely the more popular member of that duo but Niki had always been fond of her other boss, too.

Tall and thin, he’d wrapped the white bar apron around his skinny body a couple of times. As always, his long brown hair was pulled back into a wispy ponytail that drooped at the nape of his neck.

Flopping a towel on the bar, he leaned forward. “Why don’cha just go on over to th’ park?” he urged plaintively. “It’s gonna look real funny, you not bein’ there with that big rodeo cowboy comin’ all this way to see you.”

Niki felt her spine stiffen. “Don’t start on me, Cleavon,” she begged. “Please.”

He sighed. “I won’t, but you showin’ up would sure save Rosie’s bacon. She’s out there makin’ a fool of herself and hopin’ against hope you’ll do this one little bitty thing for the town.”

Niki rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said when you talked me into taking that Cowboy Dream Girl title. Cleavon, I’m twenty-seven years old which is too old for all that beauty contest nonsense. I’m afraid I’ve done just about all the little bitty things I can for this town.”

With a wave, she moved away to wash down tables that didn’t need it. She’d taken only a couple of steps when the door opened and her sisters walked in. With a groan, she bowed to the inevitable and went to meet them.

“What’ll it be?” she asked cheerfully, just as if they were regular customers. “Cleavon’s got a special on the Sorry Burger, if you’re hungry.”

Dani and Toni exchanged exasperated glances and Dani said, “All we want is you, Nik—out there acting nice.”

“This is as nice as I get these days.” Niki spun away.

Toni jumped in front of her. “Rosie’s dyin’ out there, trying to act as if everything’s all right. She was so sure you’d change your mind.”

“Just because I always have before, after being brow-beaten and bullied for a couple of weeks? I’m sorry but I can’t do that again.”

“But this guy is cute.” Dani joined the offense. “I mean, really cute. At least come out to meet him and let the photographers take a couple of pictures. ”

“What part of no way, never, forget it don’t you people understand?” Niki wrung her hands together. “This is making me crazy! My own sisters…” She let her voice trail off mournfully.

Dani, seemingly undeterred, fixed Niki with a level gaze. “Okay, we tried. If you really don’t want to do this, I don’t suppose we should give you any more flack about it.”

“But on the other hand…” Toni tried to turn the tide.

“No, really,” Dani said sanctimoniously. “I guess Niki’s happy in her own little rut. Far be it from us to try to shake her out of it.”

Toni frowned. “I wouldn’t say she’s in a rut, exactly.”

Dani’s brows soared. “No? She works at the ranch and here and that’s it. She doesn’t date—”

“I certainly do,” Niki said huffily.

“When’s the last time you had a date?”

“I…I don’t know. When’s the last time you had sex? Oh—!” Niki clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was way out of line.”

“This morning about six.” Dani’s expression was challenging. “And I liked it!”

“I’m sorry,” Niki said again, miserably. What had possessed her to say such a thing? Sex wasn’t a topic often on her mind….

“I repeat, when’s the last time you went out on a date?”

“Who was it with?” Toni chimed in, apparently catching on.

“I don’t remember. There, are you satisfied?”

“Not hardly.” Dani pursed her lips. “I just felt it necessary to support my contention that you’re in a rut. You need something to shake you out of it—not for the good of the town but for your own good.”

“I am not in a rut.” Niki recognized the defensive edge in her tone and hoped her sisters didn’t. “I’m happy with my life.”

“Really? Hiding out here at the Sorry Bastard or back at the ranch, a big fish in a little pond? No husband, no kids—hell, Nik, you don’t even have a dog of your own!”

“Dani!” Niki stopped short, surprised by the laughter bubbling in her throat. “Oh, all right,” she grumbled. “You’ve made your point.”

“Will you at least think about it?”

“Yes, I’ll think about it. Now go away and let me do my job.”

She watched them leave, feeling the weight of melancholy settle upon her shoulders. If her life was as dull as they made it sound, was she then equally dull? Maybe if she wasn’t reasonably pretty, she wouldn’t have any friends at all.

Talk about a depressing thought….

NIKI’S SISTERS eventually reappeared and were last in line to meet the guest of honor. Ignoring the crowd of men and boys still clustered around Clay in a loose but attentive semicircle, the dark-haired one stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Dani Keene Burke.”

The one with lighter hair added, “Toni Barnett. We’re Niki Keene’s sisters and we thought we…” She looked uncomfortable. “…uh…we owed you an explanation.”

Mayor Rosie heaved a gusty sigh of relief. “Thank heaven y’all showed up,” she said. “I’ve been dreading havin’ to do this alone.”

Clay, who knew exactly what they were talking about, smiled warmly. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. “Will your sister, Niki, be joining us soon? We’ve kept the photographers waiting as it is.” He gestured toward the two men sitting on the back edge of the bandstand, talking quietly.

“That’s just it.” Dani looked pained. “I’m afraid…she won’t be coming.”

Clay raised his brows. “Because…?”

“Because…” Dani looked at Toni who looked at Rosie who looked distressed.

Finally the mayor did her reluctant duty. “Niki says she doesn’t want to be in the contest,” she admitted faintly.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. She didn’t actually even enter—somebody else did it without checking with her first,” Rosie explained uneasily. “She wasn’t real happy when we surprised her with the news at our big Fourth of July bash but we were kinda hopin’ she’d change her mind.”

“Being a finalist in a big national contest isn’t exactly an insult,” he pointed out.

“We all told her that,” Toni said. “We want her to do it—everybody in town wants her to do it.” The other two nodded agreement. “It’s just that she’s stubborn. The more we push her, the harder she digs in her heels. Now we’re at the point where I don’t think anything could change her mind.”

Clay smiled. “Well,” he drawled, “maybe I can just come up with a way if I think on it real hard….”

THE FRONT DOOR to the Sorry Bastard flew open and in walked the sexiest man Niki Keene had ever seen in the flesh. He was followed by half—the younger half—of the males in this part of Texas. Two photographers trailed along behind.

Laughing, talking, the men pulled together several of the tables and hauled up chairs with much scraping of chair legs. Dylan Sawyer thumped a fist on the tabletop and shouted, “Beer all around, Niki! We got us a celebrity here we’re tryin’ to impress…my buddy Clay Russell.”

“Coming right up, Dylan.” Being careful to avoid looking at the “celebrity,” she hurried to the bar where Cleavon was already drawing beer into frosty mugs.

This might be harder than she’d expected. She’d been unable to stop thinking about Clay Russell after only one very low-key glimpse of him. Now he was back full force, confident and charismatic as if he’d just been fooling the last time.

He had been fooling, she realized, picking up the tray of beers. He’d been incognito, undercover—spying on her, in fact.