Beauty's Kiss (12 page)

“You and Troy.”

Taylor’s heart thudded. She swallowed uneasily, not wanting to think about Troy or the kiss, because the kiss had been so good and hot and sweet and sexy all at the same time. “We’re not a couple—”

“Maybe you should be a couple. He’s lovely.” McKenna said firmly. “And you are, too.”

“But there’s no... chemistry,” Taylor said, remembering Troy’s words. “And he has to have chemistry. You know.”

“How do you know there was no chemistry?”

Taylor blushed. “He kissed me.”

McKenna’s eyes gleamed. “And...?”

“I thought it was really good.”

“He was voted best kisser his senior year of high school. And of course, I never kissed him, but Sheenans are good lovers, so. You know.”

Taylor glanced around to be sure the sales clerk wasn’t listening. “Apparently I’m not a good kisser, though. Troy said... you know.”

“Troy told you that you weren’t a good kisser?”

“No. He just said... we could be friends.”

“Of course you can be friends. You don’t want a lover who doesn’t care about you.”

“He’s not my lover. He’s not even attracted to me.”

“And he said this?”

“
No.
But it was
implied.
”

McKenna gave her a strange look. “Not sure your logic is all that sound, which is fine. No one ever said a woman has to be logical all the time. But the one thing that is clear, is that we need to find you the perfect gown for the Ball. Yes?”

In the dressing room, armed with another stack of gowns, all handpicked by McKenna, Taylor tried on one after the other. They were all beautiful dresses, all far more sophisticated than Taylor would have selected for herself. A stunning ruby red ball gown with full skirts and a plunging décolleté; a long, form fitting red sequin gown with small padded shoulders that left her entire back bare; a sweet gown in blush with avant garde roses stitched at the bodice and fluttery folds of fabric falling to her feet.

So many beautiful gowns and yet none of them felt right. She couldn’t imagine going to the Ball in any of them. And then, right when Taylor didn’t think she could try on another dress, the sales clerk pushed a dress through the curtain and insisted Taylor try it on. “This was in the back,” the girl said, “It’s a small size, but you’re tiny and young enough to pull the look off. “

Taylor warily eyed the gown with the red circle spangles. It was not a quiet little dress, nor a sleek sophisticated gown. It was... eye catching. Maybe even show stopping. It was a dress better suited to a stage or runway...

“It’s not me,” Taylor said, poking her head out of the dressing room. “It’s just too much.”

“Put it on,” McKenna said.

“Do,” the sales girl agreed. “I think you’d look beautiful in it. You have the right coloring with your dark hair and eyes. How can it hurt to give it a try?”

A few minutes later Taylor stepped from the dressing room and turned to let the sales girl zipped up the back of the dress.

She shot McKenna a quick glance as she took a place before the tall mirror. McKenna’s eyes were wide, and she was smiling, broadly.

Taylor looked from McKenna to the mirror, and studied her reflection.

And then she did a slow twirl in front of the mirror, unable to believe she was looking at herself.

She looked... incredible.

It was the dress, of course. And the gown’s tulle wasn’t exactly pink, more blush or nude, and covered with those glossy red spangles and moved and shimmered and reflected the light.

Taylor put a hand to the deep V-neck bodice, and then to the full skirt.

“It’s... pretty,” she said softly, a bit awed by her own reflection.

“Stunning,” the sales clerk agreed.

“That’s the dress,” McKenna added.

Taylor reached for the tag that hung beneath her arm and glanced at the price a second time, making sure she hadn’t read it wrong the first time. Nine hundred dollars. Good God. Did people really pay this much for a single dress? “It’s way too much. Way, way too much.”

“But it’s perfect,” McKenna said. “You look like a princess.”

“Anyone would in a dress that costs almost a thousand dollars,” Taylor retorted, turning around to be unzipped.

“It is couture,” the sales girl said. “One of a kind.”

“Not for me. I’m not couture,” Taylor said, shaking her head. “I’m an off the rack kind of a girl. Eighty to one hundred dollars max on a dress. That’s my budget. And the ivory dress with the bronze sequin bodice fit me, and my budget. I’ll go with that.”

Chapter Seven

With dresses zipped into garment bags and then stowed in their cars, McKenna and Taylor walked down 1
^st
Avenue to Grey’s Saloon on Main for drinks and appetizers.

“When does Jane return?” McKenna asked, as they settled into a booth towards the back of the saloon.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Taylor answered, glancing towards the pool tables where Callan Carrigan was playing with a couple of cowboys. Sage had once said that Callan could outride, and out rope virtually any local cowboy, and from the looks of it, she could out play them at pool, too. Callan’s sure shots were sending ball after ball into the pockets.

The guys let out a loud collective groan and McKenna turned to watch Callan take a bow. “Looks like Callan kicked butt again,” McKenna said.

“She’s nothing like Sage, is she?” Taylor said, secretly rather intimidated by Callan, even though they were practically the same age.

“Nope. But none of the Carrigan girls are alike. Just as the Sheenan brothers are all so different.” McKenna turned back around, faced Taylor. “Speaking of the Sheenans, how is it that you and Troy are going to the Ball together?”

“Jane set us up,” Taylor said, happy to see their drinks arrive. McKenna had ordered a margarita on the rocks and Taylor a glass of red wine. Now all they needed was some food and things would be perfect.

McKenna touched her finger to the salt rimming her glass. “Didn’t Jane used to have a thing for Troy?”

Taylor nodded. “Troy claims it was one-sided.”

“I believe it.” McKenna licked salt from her fingertip. “Jane’s not his type.”

“Why not? She’s really smart and successful and—”

“A little too abrasive.”

“Jane’s not abrasive!”

“She’s pushy.”

“It’s her job to get things done.”

McKenna shrugged. “Troy likes sweet girls. Nice girls. Smart girls.” She lifted her glass, sipped her margarita, green eyes gleaming. “Girls like you.”

Taylor nearly choked on her wine. “He doesn’t like me.”

“He must like you if he’s kissed you.”

“He kissed me as a test. It was to see if we had chemistry.”

“I see. And this is the test you claim you failed?”

“Yes.”

McKenna laughed quietly and then sipped her margarita again. “He’s playing you.”

“He’s not.”

“Troy Sheenan would never kiss you if there wasn’t a little spark. If he felt absolutely no attraction, he wouldn’t even bother with a kiss.” McKenna shook her glass, letting the ice cubes clink. “Where were you when you kissed?”

“Main Street Diner.”

“What?”

“That’s what I mean. It wasn’t a romantic kiss. He leaned across the table and kissed me to see if there were any... sparks.”

“He did this all at Main Street Diner.”

“Yes.”

McKenna grinned, green eyes gleaming. “Good Lord, girl. He’s definitely interested. He would never kiss you, much less take you to a Ball if he wasn’t.”

“Jane arranged the Ball part.”

“Troy doesn’t do pity dates.” McKenna’s arched brows rose higher. “Troy Sheenan doesn’t have to.”

“Maybe not a pity date, but it’s not a
date
date. That’s why he kissed me. To make sure we could be friends, and so that’s what we are.”

“But you liked kissing him.”

Taylor blushed. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“You just need confidence.”

“I am confident.”

“Maybe as a librarian, but not as a woman.” McKenna suddenly leaned forward, and reaching out, plucked the glasses from Taylor’s nose. “Why do you wear these all the time now? You didn’t use to.”

“I need them,” Taylor answered, sticking her hand out, palm up. “May I have them back?”

“When you first moved here, you hardly ever wore your glasses. Now I never see you in contacts.”

“I like my glasses,” Taylor said a little stiffly. “And I can’t see you right now, so I’d like them back.”

McKenna put them in her hand. “Here you go. And don’t be mad. I wasn’t trying to be hurtful. I’m just curious. And maybe concerned.”

“Concerned, why?”

“I don’t know. I just kept thinking that maybe something happened.” She must have seen Taylor’s expression because she quickly added, “I get the feeling that you’re hiding, or just hiding behind the glasses. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just... projecting.”

A whistle from the pool tables drew Taylor’s attention and she glanced over at Callan who had her hand out, collecting dollar bills. It seemed she’d just won another game.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Taylor said after a moment. “Just trying to... look... older.”

“Why?”

Taylor shrugged. “I was told back in early December that I didn’t look mature enough. That I was too young. So I’m trying to dress more age appropriately.”

“Age appropriate for what? Too young for what? Take over Margaret’s job as head librarian?”

“No.” Taylor hesitated, her heart pounding a little too fast, making her suddenly queasy. She really didn’t like discussing Doug with others. Family dynamics were difficult enough without other people weighing in. “Take care of my brother.”

“You have a younger brother?”

“He’s not a child. He’s twenty-two. He’s... at Hogue Ranch.”

McKenna’s forehead creased. “That work ranch, halfway house place out in Paradise Valley?”

Taylor nodded again. “He’s been there since late August, and he had a chance to be released before Christmas. He was supposed to come live with me, but the judge didn’t think I was old enough, and mature enough, to manage my brother, so instead of letting Doug spend the six month probation period with me, he said Doug had to stay at Hogue.”

“What did your brother do?”

“He has a mood disorder.”

“I don’t understand. Did he hurt someone? Attack someone?”

“No. He was argumentative with a local sheriff who pulled him over for driving too fast. They booked him, and drug tested him and he tested positive for marijuana. He tried to explain that he was argumentative because the sheriff treated him like he was an idiot, and he’s not, and then they labeled him he as some loser, and he’s not. Doug said in court that he sometimes smokes to manage his depression but the judge said this isn’t Colorado or California. If he wants to be a drug addict, go there.” Taylor swallowed hard, and again. “Hogue isn’t a good place for him. It’s hard core. Most men there have been in and out of jail a couple of times, but Doug’s not a criminal. He has a mood disorder.”

“Is that what you told the judge?”

“I told the judge that Doug needed help. Counseling. Better depression medicine. Or a better dose of his medicine. But the judge dismissed everything I said, claiming that I was too young, and too immature, to know what was right for my brother.”

McKenna regarded her for a long moment. “You’re angry.”

“I am.” Taylor drew a slow breath and blinked, clearing her vision. “If I were a man, the judge wouldn’t have talked to me like I was little girl. If I’d been a local, I can guarantee that my brother wouldn’t be at Hogue right now. My brother would be living with me. Kara even said as much after it was all over.”

“Kara Jones? The district attorney?”

“She’s my roommate. Well, house mate. I rent a room from her, and have been living there since I arrived in Marietta last November.”

“And Kara couldn’t help you?”

“No. Conflict of interest.”

“You’d think the judge would see that as a plus on your side. You live with Marietta’s DA!”

“Kara wanted me to ask one of the local ranching families like the MacCreadies or Carrigans or Sheenans to hire Doug. She thought Brock Sheenan would be the perfect person to approach. She said everyone knows Brock, and Brock’s solid and no-nonsense, and went to school with the judge’s daughter, but I was afraid to approach him. Brock didn’t know me from Adam and it made me nervous to get strangers involved. It still does. Doug’s had a hard life. My parents treated him different than me. They were not loving towards him--” Taylor broke off, bit down into her lower lip to hold the tears back. “He’s spent his life struggling to come to terms with their rejection, and he’s allowed to have feelings and be frustrated and figure out who he is, and what he wants, without all of Crawford County judging him.”

McKenna waited a moment before speaking. “But you know Brock now,” she said quietly. “You’ve met him, you’ve met Harley. He has a big spread, too, and is always looking for help, particularly in the Spring. He’s got a foreman who has been with him a long time, and his hands are all good people. He’ll be hiring a few new guys soon. This would be the time to talk to him.”