Barbara Dunlop - The Last Cowboy Standing

Danielle couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the bling. Really? He had to wear it?

“This is Travis Jacobs,” the stranger introduced, removing his hat. “He’s tonight’s bull riding champion. And I’m Corey Samson, bullfighter extraordinaire.”

“Did he really save your life?” Odette asked Travis on a note of awe. Danielle knew the question was more about flirting than any true amazement at Corey’s feat.

Corey looked to Travis and waited.

“He most certainly did,” Travis acknowledged staunchly. “Bullfighters are highly skilled, highly trained, and among the bravest men on the planet.”

The word wingman flitted through Danielle’s brain. Travis was trying to help his friend pick up Odette.

Nadine turned to her. “That wasn’t short sentences and small words.”

Travis’s challenging gaze turned on Danielle. It was clear he remembered her using that particular phrase in the past.

“It was a generalization,” she repeated, refusing to break eye contact with him.

“That’s very impressive,” Odette told Corey with an almost comical flutter of her eyelashes.

“Danielle is continuously unequivocal in her elevated specifications for interactive discourse,” said Travis, keeping his expression completely neutral.

“How does he know your name?” Astrid immediately demanded.

“We met in Colorado,” said Travis.

“Briefly,” Danielle pointed out.

“Dance?” Corey asked Odette.

“Love to.” She giggled as she came to her feet.

“Dance?” Travis asked Danielle.

“Too busy with my drink,” she responded airily, lifting her long-stemmed glass.

“I’ll dance with you,” Nadine chimed in with obvious enthusiasm, holding out a hand.

“Ma’am,” Travis answered her, gallantly tipping his hat, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.

“You know a real live bull riding champion?” Astrid asked Danielle as the two couples left the covered deck for the dance floor inside, and Danielle concentrated on not looking at Travis’s rear end.

“He’s not a champion.” Danielle went ahead and finished off the martini. “He only does it as a hobby.”

“He’s pretty good.”

“That’s what happens when you spend your entire life on a ranch in Lyndon Valley.”

Astrid seemed confused by Danielle’s tone. “You hold that against him?”

“What I hold against him is that he’s annoying and incredibly full of himself. To hear him talk, differentiating between a Hereford and a Black Angus is the only knowledge relevant to mankind.”

Astrid was obviously fighting a grin. “Did you mix the two up?”

Danielle sighed. “They do look a lot alike.”

Astrid chuckled.

“He mocks me,” Danielle elaborated. “All the time, on every level. And we only ever see each other at the ranch, so I’m always out of my element, and he has the advantage.”

“You’re a Harvard graduate.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t let him get to you.”

“I don’t.”

“I can tell.”

Danielle regrouped. “It’s just that his frame of reference is so different than mine.”

“And that ticks you off.”

“What ticks me off, is that he’s such a snob about it. I’m intelligent. I’m hard-working. People respect me, even other cowboys. Caleb and Reed are perfectly fine with me.”

Astrid nodded toward the dance floor. “Looks like he’s getting along fine with Nadine.”

Danielle couldn’t help a reflexive glance at the couple as they danced together. “Nadine has probably been blinded by the shine off that enormous belt buckle.”

“She always was attracted to winners.”

Danielle couldn’t help but take note of Travis’s hand on the small of Nadine’s back, her touch on his shoulder, the animated smile on his face, and the way she was chattering on to him. He twirled her around, and she laughed as he pulled her back, holding her even closer against him as they swayed to the music.

Danielle couldn’t seem to stop a reflexive shimmer of sexual awareness from flashing through her belly. She pictured herself dancing with Travis. Then abruptly shook the image away.

“What’s that?” asked Astrid.

“What?”

“You’re blushing,” Astrid accused.

“I am not.”

“You got the hots for the bull rider.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I think a little bit. I think more than a little bit.”

“I’m ignoring it,” Danielle declared, lifting her martini glass only to find it empty. She glanced around for the waitress. “I’m using intellect and reason to counteract inappropriate infatuation.”

“You should dance with him,” said Astrid.

“Not on your life.”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

“I’m sure not doing anything tonight that I have to leave in Vegas.”

“I’m talking about dancing. What is it you have in mind?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

She and Travis had come close to...well, close to something a couple of years back when he’d rescued her from a derelict barn. He’d mostly been amused, and she’d mostly been angry. But after they got back to his ranch house, and she’d showered and borrowed one of his sister’s robes, there’d been a moment, a very long moment, when he’d look like he wanted to kiss her.

Her desire for that kiss had been so strong that it frightened her. She’d reacted defensively, uttering some patently untrue and hurtful remark. It had worked. He’d backed off. But it had also made him angry, and their relationship had never recovered.

* * *

“I see your drink is empty,” Travis couldn’t help saying to Danielle as he escorted Nadine to their table. He raised his brow in a question.

“That’s your cue to dance with him.” The woman called Astrid nudged Danielle with her elbow.

It was her cue to dance with him. Although he fully expected her to shoot him down, he had to take the chance. Danielle was in front of him, and he wanted to touch her. It was as simple as that.

Nadine dropped into her chair at the table, crossing her shapely legs and taking a drink of something frozen and orange. “Go for it, Danielle,” she breathed. “The band’s great.”

Danielle shook her head. “I’m not—” But then she stopped. Her eyes went wide, and she focused on a spot behind his shoulder. “Sure.” She rose to her feet. “Why not?”

Travis glanced behind him, finding a smartly dressed man in his late twenties. He was clean-shaven. His light brown hair was slicked back, slightly shiny, neat around the ears. He wore an expensive, pin-striped suit, with a white dress shirt and a purple tie. The handkerchief in his pocket matched the tie, and his gaze was intent on Danielle.

“Dani,” he opened with a dazzling, white smile.

“Sorry, Randal,” she spoke breezily, linking her arm with Travis’s. “Just about to dance.” She all but dragged Travis toward the dance floor.

“What was that?” Travis asked, as he turned her into his arms.

“What was what?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

“What was up with the guy back there?” He settled a hand on the small of her back.

“Nothing.” She took a breath, placed her hand on his shoulder and stepped into the smooth jazz music.

She felt so good in his arms that he almost let her get away with it. The dance floor was crowded. The breeze from the open window ruffled her hair. Man, she was beautiful.

But he was too curious to let it drop. “You were about to turn me down. Don’t pretend you weren’t. Then that guy showed up, and you changed your mind.”

Danielle gave her short, brown hair a little toss. It was soft and trendy, long across her eyes, wispy at her neck. “I didn’t expect to see you in Vegas.”