Читать книгу Laredo's Sassy Sweetheart - Tina Leonard - Страница 9

“So what exactly was the big problem?” Hannah Hotchkiss asked as she walked into Katy’s bedroom.

“Problem?” Katy asked, eyeing her best friend and companion stylist warily.

“The one Laredo mentioned. By the time the two of you returned from your walk, you had a yes out of him, and he was wearing a distinctly cattywhumpussed expression.”

“A minor detail,” Katy murmured. “Nothing that was truly a problem.” She wasn’t about to share the worrisome detail that their knight in shining armor lacked experience in the saddle.

“I think you’ve caught that man’s eye.”

Katy glanced up, horrified. “Do not say that. He is not my type at all.”

“What is your type?”

Stanley came to mind, but Katy tossed that thought violently out of her brain. “I haven’t figured it out yet. But I’m certain I’ll know it when I see it.” She blew her bangs away from her forehead. “These bangs will not grow fast enough to suit me.”

“Why are you letting them grow out? They suit your face and showcase your eyes.”

“I look like a little girl. I don’t want to look like that anymore.” She handed a picture to her friend of a model dressed like a ballerina, her hair pulled away from her face in a severe topknot. “That’s the way I want to look.”

“Like you haven’t had a good meal in a month?”

Katy snatched the paper back. “Elegant. Sophisticated.”

“Like you don’t give a damn.”

“Exactly.” Katy nodded. “I don’t.”

“Now you just have to convince yourself.”

“Right.”

“What a bozo that Stanley must have been.” Hannah sighed and got to her feet. “Listen, pulling your hair back until you look like a scarecrow isn’t going to give you the mature edge you’re looking for.”

“You have a suggestion for maturing a permanent baby face?”

“No. The baby face is not the problem—and, by the way, it’s called a cute face. There’s nothing baby about you. Your challenge is to become more daring. Daring. Remember that word.”

Katy raised a brow.

“You’re masking your real worry by making it a hair issue, something all women do, and sometimes men, as well. The key is to face the issue dead-on, and pin it on the body part where it actually belongs. It’s never a hair issue. Could be the brain, could be the breasts, could be your—”

“I don’t need a body catalogue,” Katy interrupted.

“So, where’s your real issue?”

“My heart.”

“Not possible. Choosing the heart is a stall tactic. It means you’re still transposing and referring your denial. The heart is not part of the equation, as it is only a label for people’s emotions. A visual, if you will.”

“I don’t know if I will or not.” Katy groaned, unwilling to go down the path. “My womanhood,” she finally said. “If I’d been more of a woman, even Becky couldn’t have gotten Stanley away from me.”

“That’s a myth, you know. Women successfully steal men all the time. It doesn’t take much effort.”

“I will never believe that. There are a few men out there who have antitheft devices on their hearts.”

“Yes, but we’re not talking about their hearts, and I have it on good authority that antitheft devices do not fit on a man’s p—”

“All right!” Katy interrupted. “So any man is ripe for the picking. Then what’s the point of me trying to overcome my issue if their issue is unsolvable?”

“Because once you develop more confidence, your chance of a man ever straying from you is dramatically diminished. You put a certain amount of color on a lady’s hair to diminish her gray, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Katy said uncertainly.

“Well, you have to wear confidence to attract and keep someone you love. Become a bright, new color. Remember our new word—daring.”

“Lack of confidence was not why Stanley married Becky.”

“He did that because he was already at the church, the guests had flown in, his mother was wearing Bob Mackie, and you, my sweet gullible angel, had footed the bill as the bride. Plus, he still had a smile on his face from what had occurred in the bridal changing room. Strategically, if he couldn’t wait another five minutes or so to enjoy your virginity, I’m thinking he didn’t have much staying power for the long haul. Not that I’m judging him, exactly, since I have never met him. However, sometimes actions speak louder than words, and I sincerely believe your wedding day was one of those loud action moments.” Hannah examined her nails casually. “By the way, you are going to send his parents a bill for the wedding.”

Katy gasped. “Maybe Stanley and Becky, but not his parents!”

“No way. His parents are filthy rich and worried about impressions. You got the shaft and they’ll be anxious to make certain you don’t pay for their son’s cruel indiscretion, lest you tell someone important like…Dear Abby. Oprah, even. The whole matter sounds very Jerry Springer to me. That’ll hit Stanley’s parents where they panic, and they’ll certainly cough up what you’re owed.”

Katy flushed, hating the humiliation she’d suffered that day. “I want to keep it quiet. Forget about it. Move on.”

“You are not as confident as you could be, Katy,” Hannah said softly. “And under the circumstances, I understand. But by the time I’m finished with you, confidence will radiate from you!”

She wondered what Laredo saw radiating from her. Messy ponytail and no lipstick—probably all he saw was a dull aura. “Okay, do your darnedest. I guess.”

Hannah lifted Katy’s ponytail and ran it through her hand; Katy could practically hear her friend’s creative brain whirring away.

Sighing, she reminded herself that she’d come to work at the Lonely Hearts Salon for just this reason. She needed the emotional support of women to help her get over her deepest fear: that she was sexually dysfunctional. Truth was, it hadn’t been all that hard to keep her virginity. She had never felt a point-of-no-return reason to surrender it. But her best friend was talking about men as if they were as easy to pick as a dessert from a menu, and for Katy that would never be the case. It would take a kind and gentle man eons to teach her any differently. “I’m like Rapunzel. Locked in my own ivory tower.”

“I think you should experiment on Laredo Jefferson, Katy. I believe romancing that man could knock a few bricks out of your tower. Rattle the foundation a bit.”

Katy shook her head. “The last person who could ever save me from myself would be the freewheeling Laredo Jefferson. I’ve been to his home at the Malfunction Junction Ranch, and his family is wild and woolly. Fun, but too much for a girl like me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, someone once told me that an ivory tower is really a phallic symbol—in Laredo’s case, I’d believe it! And right now, this is just a stop on his eastward hunt for adventure, so I’d never dream of allowing him to scale my walls. Even if he wanted to.”

“See, there you go again. If. Of course he does!”

“Do you really think so?” Katy asked doubtfully.

“A man does not agree to ride a bull unless he’s fairly sure there’s a helluva prize waiting for him once he’s hit the dirt, honey.”

Katy straightened. “I don’t think of myself in those terms.”

“Wait till I’m done with you. You’ll be thinking Scarlet O’Hara by Saturday. I promise.”

“Scarlet O’Hara was a flirt, a maneater,” Katy protested.

“Exactly.”

“YOU’RE DOING WHAT?” Mason shouted in Laredo’s ear over the phone. “Have you clean lost your mind?”

Laredo pictured Katy’s concerned face. “Not lost it, just temporarily misplaced it, maybe. Mason, I need some tips.”

“You want a phone course in killing yourself by stupidity.”

“Someone has to do this, and it’s going to be me.”

“Obviously,” Mason muttered. “This is not what I thought you meant when you said you were heading back east for adventure. You’ve barely left the county!”

“You know what they say about one’s own backyard.”

“Oh, hell.” There was an audible sigh from the other end of the line. “I guess I’ll send Tex over with the gear you’re going to need.”

“Tex won’t want to be torn away from his roses right now,” Laredo warned. “He’s right in the middle of preparing for the oncoming spring season.”

“I’ll hire Martha Stewart to baby-sit his buds,” Mason growled. “In the meantime, Tex can come out there and share his vast knowledge with you.”

Somehow, the idea of his twin coming out and spending time around Katy wasn’t altogether appealing. “Well—”

“I can’t give you pointers by phone, if you’re determined to do this. What’s the name of the bull, by the way?”

“Bloodthirsty Black.”

“Is he a first-night bull or a marquee bull?”

Laredo scratched his head. “He’s an unknown quantity. The last cowboy who was supposed to ride him had a change of plans.”

“Maybe he was smart.”

Any man who chose having sex over bull riding probably had some sense. Laredo squinted around Katy’s room. Her bed was unrumpled and covered with a clean, white cotton bedspread. There were white lace curtains floating at the open window. Beside her bed, Rose the mouse stared up at Laredo, her pink-flesh ears and tiny paws quivering. She was smaller than his little finger, and for a mouse, quite adorable. Her red price tag was stuck on the side of her wire-covered box as a pretend welcome mat. Katy had drawn a door above the welcome mat, and placed paper lace cutouts around fake windows. Laredo sighed to himself, then sat straight up as he realized something white and lacy was poking out from under Katy’s pillow.

Gingerly, he tugged the lace. It left its hiding place with a smooth, gliding flash of froth. Holding it up, he realized it was sheer, it was very short, and Katy slept in this at night. His pulse raced as he glanced toward the door. He was pretty certain Katy wouldn’t appreciate walking in and finding him with her nightgown in his hands and very little room left in his jeans.

“Laredo?” Mason’s voice asked in his ear. “Laredo!”

Having sex or riding a bull.

He hadn’t been offered sex. But occasionally a lucky hero got gifted with such a prize. Shoving the nightgown back under the pillow, he said, “I’m riding that bull, Mason, come hell or high water.”

“DID YOU GIRLS NOTICE the new man in town?” Marvella asked as she stared out at her sister’s salon.

“Did we ever!” her girls chorused.

“Looked like a real cowboy to me,” Marvella said. “I so love cowboys! I do wonder how Delilah keeps coming up with these timely miracles.”

“I’ve got first dibs,” a stylish brunette called. “It’s my turn for a new customer.”

“Honey, he’s not a customer till you convince him he is,” someone corrected her. “And all’s fair in love until the moment one of us closes the bedroom door.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s over just because the door closes,” someone said. “If I recall, one of you managed to be in the bed waiting, while you had a fake phone call downstairs for the girl he thought he was going to be spending the night with.”

A few giggles went round the room, and a redhead in the corner blushed uncomfortably. “I should have known it was a trick. Extra points for creativity, especially since he didn’t seem to mind the switch,” she said.

“Well, this cowboy isn’t going to get his eight seconds onboard Bloodthirsty Black. If Delilah wants to be humiliated twice, we can accommodate her,” Marvella said. “But we can’t be obvious, because I can guarantee you, he’s been told in detail how truly mean, unkind and positively sex-starved we are. Delilah will be extracautious this time.” She tapped long fingernails against the windowsill. “In four days. I don’t want him to even lay a leg over Bloodthirsty Black. This calls for sweetness and light, and dainty coincidence.”

“Dainty?”

“Did you see that he was escorting Katy Goodnight on a walk? That’s dainty as powdered sugar on a doughnut,” Marvella pointed out.

“If her fiancé ditched her at the altar and married her best friend, she’s got something missing in her sugar bowl,” someone suggested. “Dainty is not always delightful.”

“Okay,” Marvella said with a snap of her fingers. “I’ve got just the plan.”

“Is it dainty?”

She smiled as she watched the lights coming on inside her sister’s salon. “No,” she said. “It’s a doozy.”