From the Boots Up (11 page)

“Oh, and Gina tells me that she’s had a hell of a
good time the past week. Said this is the most fun she’s had on a story.”

“Told you it would be all right.”

“Thanks, darling daughter, for putting an old man’s
fears to rest,” he said plaintively.

She rolled her eyes. “Later, Dutchie. I’ve got mail
to deliver.” She waved the envelopes and left, the weight in one part of her
world alleviated.

Dinner and the fire were disappointing, though,
because Gina didn’t stick around. She probably had to finish up the story, and
Meg chided herself for once again allowing a crush to override common sense. Gina
was a reporter, there to do a job. She was friendly and professional, and maybe
what Meg thought was flirting wasn’t. After all, Gina had to have boundaries
when she worked, just like most people. And maybe she was reading way too much
into some of Gina’s comments.

Which sucked. But she really didn’t have anything to
go on. Just her own stupid crush. Or attraction. Whatever the hell it was.

Somehow, she wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow,
which came too quickly.

She was out of bed early and on her way to Laramie
before things got really busy at the ranch. Alice had stocked her with a travel
mug of coffee and a couple of cinnamon rolls, but she hated missing breakfast
and maybe seeing Gina. Jesus, it was like she had a virus or something. Or
worse, an addiction.

And she hadn’t gotten her number yet.

For networking, like Alice said.

After lunch. She’d get it then. For sure.

But when she parked the truck next to the office
after she’d returned and unloaded it, she realized that Gina’s Pathfinder was
gone. She strode into the office, ribcage closing in on her heart like walls
collapsing over a foundation. She clicked the mouse at the computer on the desk
and stared at the screen. Checked out, at eight that morning. She exited the
window and stared at the screen for a few minutes before she left, teeth
clenched together. And it wouldn’t have mattered had she taken one of the
ranch’s cell phones with her on her errands because Gina didn’t have the
numbers for them. And like a dumb-ass, she didn’t have Gina’s number. Not that
it mattered. No guarantee she could have gotten through out here.

She saw Davey in the parking lot, on his way to the
dining hall.

“Hey,” she said.

He waited.

“Do you know when Gina left?” She hated asking him,
but she sure as hell didn’t want to ask her dad, who might pick up on her mood
about it and she definitely didn’t want to ask Alice, because she already knew
too much.

“Around eight. Guess she got a call from her boss
early this morning and they needed her to do something, so she had to leave
early.” He shrugged, but he sounded almost happy about it.

“Did she say anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Like whether she was planning to follow up on the
story here?” Or if she was planning on going to the River Rest that night? But
Meg didn’t voice that part.

“Not really. Just said she had to leave.”

She nodded, slowly.

He gave her a smug look and continued toward the
hall. She refrained from calling him an asshole.

“Hi, hon. Everything go okay?”

She turned toward Stan. “Yeah. Unloaded, receipts on
the desk.”

“Good. Thanks. And your mom called this morning.”

She swallowed her groan.

“She wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Okay. I’ll give her a call.” She went back to the
office, not wanting to get into a discussion about Gina with him. After all, to
him, she was just a reporter who came out to do a job. Dealing with her mom
right now seemed to fit her mood. She half-listened to Irene talk about her
latest social event, thanked her for calling to wish her a happy birthday, and
she’d let her know when she got the package from Kentucky. Knowing her mom, it
was another girlie blouse that she’d never wear. Good thing they usually fit
Janice or Anna.

The conversation ended and Meg hung up, grateful that
at least this time, her mom didn’t ask her if she’d met any nice young men. She
sighed, frustrated and more than a little hurt that Gina had just up and left, after
she’d made a show yesterday of telling her she’d see her at her birthday
gathering. She sat brooding, staring at the wall.

“Hey, hon,” Stan said as he came in. “Can you make
some calls for me today?”

“Sure.” She managed a weak smile.

“Just the usual courtesy stuff for guests coming in
next week. Here’s the list.” He handed a piece of paper to her. “Oh—” he
started, but Troy stuck his head in.

“Hey, Stan. Alice needs your okay on a few things, as
soon as you can. It’s about dinner.”

“Okay.” He looked over his shoulder at Meg as he left
and gave her a grin as followed Troy.

She sighed again and looked at the list. It’d take a
while to get through it. She reached for the phone, and decided to ignore the
blinking number one on the answering machine. She’d check it later if she
remembered.

After she finished the phone calls, she went to help
Mark and a couple other hands get the horses squared away for the evening upon
their return from an afternoon trail ride. By dinner, she was almost resigned
to Gina’s absence, though it stung, which pissed her off. It was her own fault,
after all, for thinking there was something beyond just chatting in their
interactions. It was her own fault for hoping. Who the hell cared, anyway? It
was a fun crush while it lasted, and now it was time to let it go. There’d be
plenty more of those in the future.

But it still hurt.

And she still couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Screw it, she decided. This is why they call them
crushes, after all. Because they
do
hurt. And here it was, her birthday. Well, she’d enjoy it. Alice’s awesome
cake, and then a couple of beers in town would take some of the sting out of
the day. She went to the dining room, determined to enjoy herself.

M
eg finished
her first beer and before
she could even throw the bottle away, Tim handed her a fresh one. “Happy
birthday!” he yelled as Laura dragged him to the dance floor. She raised the
bottle at him and grinned. The growing crowd at River Rest jostled her senses
along with the smells of cigarette smoke and greasy Mexican food. She smiled.
Who knew a couple from Chicago enjoyed two-stepping?

She danced the next one with Mark, one with Floyd,
and then two more with Jackson. Her friends at school joked with her that she
was “bi-danceual.” Meg could lead or follow, depending on the partner. As the
last notes sounded on the Tim McGraw song, she thanked Jackson and headed for
the tables the Diamond Rock crowd had co-opted. She liked dancing, especially
leading, though the non-ranch people at the bar probably wouldn’t appreciate
that.

For the hundredth time, she wondered what it would
feel like to work Gina around the floor. And for the hundredth time, she shut
the thought down. She plopped down into an empty chair. Davey sat nearby
chatting up a local woman. He had so many asshole points on him at the moment
that she debated telling the local that rumor had it that he had a girlfriend
stashed in Laramie. Then again, the local might not care.
 
She took another sip of her beer, which
was on its way to warm.

She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she might consider
another beer. She’d driven, but she could always get a ride home with someone
else. Besides, her dad had already gone home and she wouldn’t feel embarrassed
if she got a little buzz on. Or more. And it might help kick the crush out of
her heart. A hangover would serve as a diversion.

The Randy Travis song playing over the dance floor
faded to an end and someone announced that it was karaoke time. The crowd
cheered and she decided another beer was definitely in order. She made her way
to the bar, easing between two cowboys to lean on the polished wood. The
bartender smiled, his bushy mustache moving with the motion of his lip, and
reached into the ice-filled sink. He extracted a Bud Light, popped the top, and
handed it to her. She pulled her wallet out of her pocket and he shook his
head. “This one’s on the house, Meg. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” she said, surprised. She tipped him a
couple of dollars and turned to watch the stage, where a drunk cowboy slurred
through a Hank Williams song. The audience whooped and hollered as he finished
and someone helped him down. Five people later, the singing was worse but
people continued to clap and cheer even more enthusiastically. Meg felt a hand
on her arm and she turned her head.

“Hey, birthday girl,” Gina said with a smile.

Meg stared, and even if she knew what she wanted to
say, she wouldn’t have been able to.

Gina leaned in closer so she could hear her over the
crowd. “Having fun yet?” She smelled sort of spicy and crisp, like cinnamon,
and Meg fought an urge to back her against the bar and kiss her. Or hug her. Or
something.

“Hell, yes,” she finally said as Gina let go of her
arm. “I thought you’d left.”

She looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you get a call from your boss?”

Gina leaned closer again. “Yes. She wanted the story
by one instead of five, so I had to get to Laramie and track down one last
source before I emailed it. I faxed it, too, so she’d have copies in both
formats. Got some photos developed and had them scanned and emailed. Then I had
to make a few calls. Cell phone service is better in Laramie.”

She studied Meg’s face. “I told your dad and Alice I’d
see you later today. I called and left a message, too.”

Meg remembered the answering machine, but she hadn’t
remembered to check the message. “They didn’t mention it,” she said, and she
wanted to laugh, relief cascading down her spine and through her chest. “They
probably thought I already knew. Davey just said you’d checked out and left.”

She raised an eyebrow and a “why did you even bother”
expression crossed her features.

Meg laughed. “Yeah, I guess that was stupid, asking
him anything.”

“You’d have better luck getting answers on a snipe
hunt.”

“And it’d be more fun.”

“Depending on the company, yes. And I told you. Birthdays
are a big deal in my world,” she said with a smile.

“Well, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The night is young. You okay on
that beer?” She touched the bottle, assessing.

“Yep.” And she was okay in several other ways, as
well. More than okay. Even though this was Gina’s last night here, she’d shown
up, like she said she would, and it provided a perfect context for Meg to get
her phone number. Even if nothing came of it, she’d come to the party.

“All right. Let me see if this fine gentleman at the
bar can hook me up with something.” She raised her eyebrow again and brushed
past her, making contact though she had plenty of room.

Meg gripped her bottle tighter as she watched her lean
in to talk to the bartender. She took a drink from her bottle, and let her gaze
wander from Gina’s boots up her jeans to her ass, which filled the faded denim
perfectly and her white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, set
her skin off nicely. She took another drink, trying to quell the impure thoughts
racing through her mind, like reaching out and brushing Gina’s dark hair away
from the collar of her shirt so she could kiss the back of her neck. . .she was
clearly no longer interested in getting rid of this crush. Or attraction.
Whatever the hell it was.

Gina turned from the bar after adding some bills to
the plastic pitcher that served as a tip jar. She held a short tumbler in her
left hand. A slice of lime hung on the rim and amber liquid filled a quarter of
it. Tequila.

Meg even found
that
sexy. “Tough day, huh?” She motioned at the glass.

The right side of Gina’s mouth quirked into a
half-smile. “Until now. Where are you sitting?”

“Over there.” She led her toward the tables and Gina
followed but when they got there, she didn’t sit down.

“I’ll be right back.” She didn’t set her drink down.
“Don’t run off,” she said with one of her mysterious little grins.

“Okay.” Like that was even an option, the way Gina
made her feel.

“Good.” She regarded her for a long moment before she
turned and pushed into the crowd.

Meg watched her go, trying to ignore the pounding of
her heart and the matching throb between her legs. She remained standing so she
could watch a woman onstage who was singing a reasonably good rendition of a
Wynonna tune. The crowd continued to cheer and the announcer called for another
round of applause. He then prepared the audience for the next singer.

“And now, folks, show some Wyoming hospitality and
make an out-of-towner feel welcome!” He turned and gestured at the next singer
who toasted the crowd with her glass of tequila.

“Oh, my God,” Meg said under her breath as Gina took
the lime wedge off her glass and bit it before she downed the tequila in one
smooth swallow. The crowd roared its approval as she set the glass with the
lime rind in it on the edge of the stage and turned to take the mic from the
announcer.

“Damn,” a man said next to Meg. “Who’s that?”

She didn’t answer and nobody else did, either,
because they were all waiting to hear what the out-of-towner was going to sing.

“Thanks for the welcome,” Gina said. “I’ve gotta tell
you, I’ve been to a lot of places, but this is by far my favorite.”

The crowd cheered.

“Sorry to say, I’m not in town much longer—”

The crowd groaned.

“But I hope I’ll be coming back.”

The audience stamped and cheered.

“Enough about me. As some of you might know. . .” she
paused for dramatic effect. “We’ve got a birthday girl with us tonight.”