Allison Leigh - How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart / The Rancher's Dance - How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart / The Rancher's Dance

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.