The Pretty Lady and the Cowboy (Songs from the Heart) (8 page)

“Not good enough. I’m your guardian, and I take that responsibility seriously. You’ll have to promise to give up drinking completely if you want me to sign that.”

She didn’t hesitate for a second. “Done!” she said, and she pushed the contract and a pen over to my side of the table.

I wanted her to be happy. Maybe being in a dorm with a bunch of heavy drinkers was the root of her problem. Maybe having a place of her own would make all the difference for her. I picked up the pen and signed.

“Do not forget,” I said. “
No alcohol
. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Not even a Bud Light.” I held out my hand to her. “Promise?”

“Absolutely,” she assured me, giving my hand a firm shake across the table. Then she stood up.

“Where are you off to?” I asked. “I was hoping for a little girl talk. I’ve got a hot date tonight and I wanted to tell you all about it.”

“Gotta run. My next class starts in less than an hour. Thanks so much, Kit. I can’t wait to have my own place.” She stood up, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and headed off toward the bus stop. “Great seeing you,” she called back over her shoulder.

I looked after her and I wondered just how she had done it. How had my baby sister managed to manipulate me into giving her exactly what she’d been nagging me for since the fall term began? I was sure she knew I loved her. But my parenting score for the day was something like Love 40, Tough Love 0. My signature on the contract was a reward she didn’t deserve, based on nothing more than a promise that could be easily broken. I shook my head thinking about how skillfully she’d worked me. Maybe she’d be a great salesperson someday.

Or a great con artist.

I paid our bill and headed back to the store. Well, I was determined to make sure she her kept her promise. Somehow.

The Finish Line closes early on Sunday. In fact, by 3:30 all the shops in town except the restaurants and the coffee shop had shut down. I put the dress Jess had generously loaned me into the garment bag and left. I had to get back here by six. Why hadn’t I thought to give Levi the address of my apartment? Nerves, I guess.

I turned the key in the ignition of my Toyota Camry. Dad owned it for many years before he passed it along to me as a college graduation present and finally bought himself a new car. Ally was always pestering me to get myself a Mini Cooper or a Fiat 500, probably because driving around in a cute little chick car (even one borrowed from her sister) would make her the envy of her friends. But even though the Camry could be a little quirky sometimes, I had no plans to trade it in any time soon, especially now. But I wouldn’t let myself think about my finances. It was date night.

Anyway, I didn’t need a new car to drive me the short distance to and from work. And sitting in the driver’s seat of Old Ray, as we always called it, just where Dad had sat for years, was almost like getting a hug from him. I needed a hug just now.

And I needed someone I could turn to for advice about Ally. Had I been too easy on her? Or should I cut her some slack because she was still mourning the loss of our father? Where did “being understanding” stop and “enabling” begin?

I parked the car in front of the house and took the back stairs up to my apartment. It was filled with furniture left by Dad’s estate, furniture I’d grown up with. There was the old comfy chair that Dad, Ally, and I used to squeeze into for story time, the worn leather couch that Dad had napped on in the den, the old oak coffee table my parents had refinished together. My mother had been an artist, so I had hung many of her paintings on my walls—paintings of our house, paintings of Ally and me when we were very small, paintings of an old family dog I hardly remembered. I sometimes fantasized about giving it all to Good Will and doing an Ikea makeover. But I didn’t. It was home.

I kicked off my shoes and glanced at the clock. Four o’clock. Two hours. I decided to put on some footless tights and a tee-shirt and do a little yoga to pass the time. I needed something to keep me from counting down the minutes and the seconds.

I worked my way through several sun salutations to warm up. Then I began a series of poses to help me relax the muscles in my legs and arms. I was still a little stiff from yesterday’s fall. I ended by sitting in a lotus posture and chanting “Om” to try to clear my mind.

Then I jumped up and made a mad dash for the shower—so much for the calming effects of Yoga—grabbing my favorite scented shower gel from the bathroom shelf. I couldn’t help thinking of Levi’s gentle hands and gentle kisses as I ran the soapy washcloth over my body. I inhaled and smiled to myself. I loved this scent—Graceful, it was called. And gracefulness was definitely what I was hoping to have plenty of tonight. Maybe I could somehow persuade the klutzy side of me to stay home.

I tried to do everything extra slowly so I wouldn’t have time to sit and wait after I was finally all dressed. I toweled my body slowly, dried my hair with extra care, spent several minutes smoothing some Graceful body lotion on my arms and legs so the scent would linger everywhere on my body. I applied mascara and a lip gloss called Damsel. Then I put on my sexiest, pink lace, strapless bra and panties set. I pulled the hot pink silk dress over my head and finally slipped into my princess shoes.

When I looked in the mirror I saw a new Kitty looking back at me. I was now a kitten on the prowl!

After a busy day at the store and a frustrating lunch with Ally, I deserved a night out. More than that—I deserved a little romance.

I glanced at the clock. Perfect. About ten to six. I grabbed a black clutch purse and tucked my driver’s license, lip gloss, and a comb inside. Just the essentials. Then I grabbed my keys and headed out to Old Ray.

I opened the door, settled into the old, familiar driver’s seat, and turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

“Old Ray,” I whispered, “not now! This is no time to get temperamental with me.”

I resisted the urge to pump the gas pedal. I waited an excruciating minute or two then tried turning the key a second time. Nothing again. I was stuck here with a car that wouldn’t start. I went for it and pumped the gas, knowing I might flood the gas line. Still nothing. And Levi would be at the store about eight minutes from now. And I had no way to contact him.

I slid out of the car, closed the door, and kicked the side of Old Ray as hard as I could with my Jimmy Choos. Ouch! Bad idea!

The trolley didn’t run after 3:00 on Sunday afternoons, so I had no choice: I dashed back upstairs and laced on a pair of running shoes. If I cut through a bunch of backyards and ran across the highway, I should be able to make it to the store in fewer than twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes. And wasn’t I going to look great by the time I got there! Well, it was that or give up and tune into The Bachelor again tonight.

No way
, I thought. I stuffed my princess shoes into a backpack along with my purse and took off running.

All I’ve got to say is that if you’re ever tempted to try to run in a strapless underwire bra and a tight sheath dress, don’t do it. Or if you really must do it, don’t top things off with a backpack, however light.

I couldn’t run at anywhere near my normal pace. The backpack strap cut into my bare shoulder and the pack itself smacked into my shoulder blades with each step. And you don’t even want to know about the beating my boobs took, bobbing uncomfortably in the lacy underwire. Strapless bras were a pain at the best of times but now this one was slipping down somewhere around my rib cage. Well, there was no way I was going to stop and try to pull it up out here in front of the whole town.

As I ran, I started to sweat. Sorry about the dress, Jess! My grandmother had once told me that horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies “dew,” but no, I was sweating.

I was navigating from a sort of mental version of Google Earth, cutting across backyards and open fields, praying for breaks in the traffic as I sprinted across the highway and main streets. I might have found it amusing if I wasn’t so mad at Old Ray—and at myself for cutting the timing so close. Would Levi wait? Or would he have told his limo driver to take him back to the hotel long before I came panting up to the store?

At least I managed not to fall this time. I slowed to a walk when I was about half a block away, but I was still breathing pretty heavily by the time I reached the front of The Finish Line. By some miracle, Levi was there, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the store, eyes closed, head leaning against the store window. I smiled. He was wearing the Finish Line cap I’d given him and the disguise seemed to be working since there was no crowd surrounding him.

He must have heard my footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes and his amused glance took in my wind-tousled hair, my pink silk dress, and of course, the ultimate accessory, my sexy-as-all-get-out running shoes.

“You know, JK,” he said, “I would have been happy to pick you up.”

JK—Just Kitty. I guess that meant we were getting friendlier.

“Hey, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m the local running store owner, so I feel like I ought to run everywhere I go. Good for the environment, too.”

He gave me a slightly disbelieving look as he stood up and helped me remove the backpack. The slight touch of his hand against my bare shoulder sent shivers of delight up my spine. The run seemed to have heightened all my senses. I could detect that aftershave of his, subtle, understated. He looked dazzling in a black collarless shirt and dress jeans—and the Finish Line cap, the must-have item that always makes a brilliant fashion statement.

“Yeah, okay, my car wouldn’t start,” I confessed. I unlocked the door and led the way in. I really needed to freshen up. “Doggone it,” I said as we walked in, “here I was hoping to dazzle you in my princess shoes. Best laid plans and all that.”

“Gang aft agley,” he said. Wow, the English major in me was impressed. He picked right up on the quote from the Scottish poet Robert Burns.

“Now, don’t look so surprised—my last name
is
McCrory,” he said with a grin. “My granny even used to dance the Highland fling for me when I was little.” He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. Be still my heart!

“I just need a few minutes to—um—powder my nose,” I said, turning toward the back of the store.

But he pulled me to him. “How can I let you go without even a kiss good-bye?” A smile played around the corners of his blue eyes. I felt the warmth of his hands on my back and then the soft but firm touch of his lips on mine. Whoa! I had been hoping for romance tonight, but things were going quite a bit faster than I had anticipated.

I pulled back and our eyes met again. I could feel him drawing me to him a second time. But I was determined to give myself another chance to make a dazzling entrance.

“I won’t be long. Wait right there,” I finally said, pointing to the one couch in the store. I kicked off my running shoes, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the ladies’ room.

I stripped down to my underwear to give myself a quick sponging down. Again I felt the tingle of knowing that he was nearby while I was nearly naked. I used the hand dryer on my bra and panties and then on Jess’s dress. Fortunately, silk dries quickly.

I brushed out the damp ringlets in my hair and used the dryer again to tame them into soft waves. I stepped into the dress and pulled it up, re-applied the Damsel lip gloss, and pulled out the Jimmy Choos, feeling sophisticated and sexy. I was scaring myself a little. How fast and how far was
I
willing to go tonight?

I couldn’t get the full effect in the tiny bathroom mirror, but the upper half of me was looking good. I walked back to where Levi was sitting, leafing through a running magazine. I heard him catch his breath when he looked up.

“I can see that running does a body good.
Your
body in particular.” His glance felt almost like a physical touch as it started low and ever-so-slowly caressed my every curve.

He stood up, took my hand, and gave me one more quick kiss on the lips. “I made a reservation for us at a little place farther up the coast a ways,” he said. “I’m ready for a quiet evening after a few days at those casinos.”

And I felt like I was ready for anything.

We held hands on the way to the limo and I was surprised at how natural it felt to walk hand in hand with Levi, more like the way I’d feel with a long-time boyfriend than with a guy I hardly knew. He opened the rear door for me as he removed his cap and gestured toward the luxurious leather seat. My dress rode up my thighs as I slid in, and I was conscious of his eyes admiring my legs. He went around to the other side and slid in toward me, then tapped the glass. “All set,” he said to the driver over the intercom. Apparently they had already discussed the destination. Then he moved closer to me and took my hand.

I was feeling suddenly shy. We had only chatted about the scenery while we were running and I had no idea what to say to him, no idea how to talk to someone so famous. But just as I was searching my mental database for conversation openers, I heard him say, “So, Pretty Lady, tell me some more about those Cinderella shoes.”

I smiled. “You mean my princess shoes?”

“Whatever—those sparkly little slippers you’ve got on your feet.”

It was such a non-guy question. I mean, you talk to your girlfriends about shoes, right? But it instantly got me chatting. I told him about walking past them for weeks in a store window, longing for them, and about saving up to buy them. He laughed when I told him that I just needed look
killer
on my first time out without my ex.

“So, the kitten has a little tiger down deep!” he said.

I told him about the small boy who went home from the reception convinced he’d met a princess.

“Only thing is,” he said, “you’re so much prettier than any princess I’ve ever seen.” He squeezed my hand.

My talking about that wedding reminded him about the time he had been the ring bearer for his mom’s second wedding. My mom and his dad had both passed away when we were quite young, so we had both felt that early loss, but when he was about seven, his mom had met a wonderful man. Levi had carried the rings down the church aisle in a pair of borrowed dress pants since his family was too poor to afford the wedding cake, the rings,
and
dress-up clothes for him and his sister. They lived on a small farm outside San Antonio and never had much money.