A Cowboy's Luck (The McGavin Brothers Book 8) Read online

  “You look terrific.” Understatement of the year.

  “Thanks.” She started toward the truck, her boots crunching on the ice-crusted sidewalk. “I broke down and put on some makeup tonight. I don’t usually do that, either.”

  Her ruby red lips had captured his attention right away. Usually they were a soft pink. He couldn’t decide which he liked better. “And your hair’s loose.”

  “For better or worse. Maybe it’ll behave itself. I ironed it.”

  “Ironed? On a board?”

  “No, it’s a styling tool.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that.” He opened the door and helped her in.

  “Ah, it’s warm as toast in here.” She gazed down at him. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.” Closing the door, he rounded the front bumper. When he climbed behind the wheel, he registered an exotic scent that had been muted by the cold air. “What’s that perfume you’re wearing?”

  “It’s called Daring.”

  “Hm.” The name fueled his imagination.

  “It doesn’t fit my personality, but a saleslady in a department store sprayed me with it about two years ago and I ended up buying some.”

  “I think it fits you.” He waited for traffic to clear and backed out of the parking space.

  “Trust me, it doesn’t.”

  “What about the fact you left Spokane and moved to Eagles Nest, where you didn’t know a soul? That’s pretty daring.”

  “No, that was a calculated plan. I like Spokane, but it’s the second largest city in the state. I’ve always wanted to live in a small town.”

  “Why?”

  “Books and movies made it sound so appealing.”

  “You couldn’t find any small towns in Washington?”

  “Of course I could, but if I was leaving town, I wanted to really leave, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. But why here?”

  “I researched online, and Eagles Nest was the closest thing to the image I’d carried around in my head for years. I visited twice to make sure it was what I wanted before I rented the apartment and moved my stuff.”

  “Did you come into the Guzzling Grizzly either time you visited?” Surely he would have noticed.

  “I did, once. You weren’t there that day.”

  “I’m sure I wasn’t. I would have remembered you.”

  “And I would have remembered you.”

  “Which begs the question. How is it possible that we went for almost six months living in the same small town without seeing each other?”

  “That would be on me. I have serious hermit tendencies, especially when I’m involved in a project. A lot of design work has come in since I moved here, which is great for my bank account but hasn’t left me much free time.”

  “But if you’ve been holed up in your apartment working, aren’t you missing the benefits of small town life?”

  “Not completely. Living down the hall from Ingrid and Abigail keeps me somewhat in the loop. I emerge from my cave now and then to go get a pastry and practice my conversational skills with the customers. Come to think of it, why haven’t I ever seen you in there?”

  “I stop by every so often, but I usually grab something and go.”

  “Busy guy.”

  “Busy gal. Looks like I have your father to thank for finally bringing us together. If he hadn’t come to town for a visit, we might still be strangers.”

  “It was partly Kendra McGavin’s doing. She was in the bakery when he showed up and she suggested that I take him to the Guzzling Grizzly for lunch.”

  “Then I owe her one, too. I’m due for another riding lesson, anyway. Maybe I’ll give her brownies. She loves those.” He pulled into the parking lot of the GG.

  “You’re taking lessons?”

  He grinned. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

  “I guess I assumed you already knew how.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving. Bryce is the real deal, an actual cowboy. I’m a cowboy in training.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. And you’d think I’d know. I grew up on a ranch.”

  “I’m a quick study.”

  “I’m getting that.”

  He unlatched his seat belt. “Ready to party?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  He wasn’t a cowboy, after all. Roxanne found his admission endearing. Most men she’d met liked to preserve their image, but he’d been willing to blow his out of the water.

  He helped her down from the truck with the same gallantry as when he’d handed her into it. She hadn’t been on a date in months and she enjoyed the heck out of his chivalry. The brief touching was fine with her, too.

  But he was circumspect about it. He didn’t hold her hand as they walked toward the front door of the Guzzling Grizzly, a door she’d recently stenciled with the twin initials GG.

  Looked good, if she did say so. “I just realized I’ve never been here at night.”

  “Then I’m really glad I asked you to dinner. The GG shines at night. Live music changes everything.” He opened the door for her.

  She stepped inside and paused, dazzled by the vibrant atmosphere. Live music did change everything. A talented country band played a current hit tune and dancers two-stepped in a swirl of color and rhythmic movement. She itched to get out there with them.

  Michael stood beside her. “What do you think?”

  “I love it. I should have made time to come in here long ago.”

  “No worries. I’ll get you caught up. I—hey, Jenny!”

  “Hey, yourself, Michael.” The fifties-something server regarded him fondly. “So I finally get to meet the genius who gave us the fabulous logo.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Roxanne, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to Jenny Clayton. The GG couldn’t function without her.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Roxanne held out her hand. “I don’t think you were working when I brought my dad in for lunch a couple of weeks ago. I remember a blond lady.”

  “That would be Ellen. We’re both here tonight.” She turning her attention back to Michael. “I really, really want one of those shirts.”

  “We need to test them before we order one for everybody. They have to go through at least one wash and—”

  “Nicole’s done that. The minute she got hers she took it back to the salon, put it through the washer and hung it to dry. She told me it came out perfect.”

  Michael laughed. “Okay, then. We’ll order more tomorrow. We’ll put a rush on it.”

  “Thank you. That’s what I was hoping to hear. And FYI, lots of customers want them, too.”

  “Great!”

  “You have a winner with those shirts.” She patted his arm. “Allow me to show you to your table.” She led them to what had to be the best seats in the house—in the middle facing the band and right next to the dance floor.

  And that wasn’t all. A bouquet of daisies, clearly from a greenhouse somewhere, were arranged in a Mason jar in the center of a blue and white checked gingham tablecloth with napkins to match. Next to the table, a bottle of champagne sat in a wooden ice bucket that looked as if it might have once dipped water from a well.

  She glanced at Michael. “This is amazing.”

  “I was hoping you’d like it.” His green eyes sparkled. “Celebrating Western style.”

  “It’s wonderful, but if you whipped up this presentation since I saw you earlier today, you must be magic.”

  “I hatched the idea a few weeks ago. We didn’t have anything to offer customers who were celebrating a special occasion at the GG and I thought we needed something.”

  “And as part of the VIP service, I’ll take your jackets,” Jenny said.

  “Thank you.” Roxanne handed over hers and Michael did the same. He also gave Jenny his hat.

  “Ellen will be here in a sec to open your champagne.” Jenny whisked off with their jackets and Michael’s hat.

  “
I feel like royalty.”

  “That’s the idea.” He held her chair for her. “The GG will always be casual dining because that’s what works in Eagles Nest. We’re just adding some fun extras for special occasions.”

  A short blond woman arrived, foil cutter in hand. Michael got up and she grinned at him. “You’re not supposed to stand when the server shows up, boss.”

  “Can’t help it. Habit.” He returned to his chair. “Roxanne, this is Ellen Pickering. She has an amazing memory. I swear she can identify every person who’s ever walked through the door.”

  Ellen blushed. “Thanks. It’s fun for me, though. I certainly remember you, Roxanne. You came in with your dad. Quinn, right?”

  “Right! I’m impressed.”

  “Like I said, it’s a fun challenge. By the way, the logo’s brilliant.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I can’t wait to get my shirt.” She gave Michael a pointed look. “Bryce said you’re in charge of ordering, so now that Nicole’s tested it…”

  “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”

  “Excuse me.” A woman tapped Michael on the shoulder. “Are those shirts for sale to the public?”

  He stood and turned to the woman. “They certainly will be, ma’am. But I can’t give you a firm price, yet.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I know you folks don’t gouge your customers. I’ve been coming here for years.”

  “She has,” Ellen said. “This is Suzanne from Wichita.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am. If you’ll give your contact information to Ellen, we’ll get back to you about the order.”

  A man at the next table turned in his chair. “Did I hear that the shirts are for sale?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then I’d like to order two, one for me and one for my wife.”

  “That’s fantastic, sir. Who’s taking care of you tonight?”

  “Jenny.”

  “Then if you’ll give Jenny your information, we’ll get back to you.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  Michael motioned to Ellen and lowered his voice. “Did Bryce remember to announce the procedure regarding the shirts?”

  “He did, but that was a half-hour ago. Folks have come in since then.”

  “I’ll make another announcement.” He glanced at Roxanne. “Be right back.”

  “Go for it.”

  Ellen removed the foil from the champagne. “If this keeps up, you two may be pestered all night.”

  “That’s okay. It’s exciting that the shirts are generating so much interest.”

  “That’s true. It’ll be great for business.” She popped the cork and poured the champagne. “I’ll be back with a plate of hors d’oeuvres.” She hurried away.

  Michael waited for the band to finish the number before he stepped up on the raised platform.

  Roxanne sucked in a breath. He was a pleasure to look at, especially in a snug-fitting t-shirt that showed off his chest and biceps.

  He grabbed one of the mics the band had been using. “Hi, there. Everybody having a good time?”

  Applause and cheers followed.

  “I’m Michael Murphy, co-owner of the Guzzling Grizzly and proud owner of this shirt.”

  “I’ll give you fifty bucks for it, Michael!” a woman called from the back.

  “Seventy-five if you’ll take it off and throw it to me!” shouted another lady.

  “Sorry, ladies, no can do. But if anyone wants a shirt, either this kind or the women’s style our beautiful bartender Tansy is wearing, just give your cell number to Bryce or Tansy at the bar or to your servers Jenny and Ellen. We’ll be in touch with the details. Thanks, and have a great night!”

  Flashing a smile, he hopped down and strode back to the table. “Clearly Bryce and I underestimated the reaction to the shirts.”

  Or the two buff guys modeling them. “But aren’t you happy about the interest? Every time someone wears a shirt, they’ll be advertising the Guzzling Grizzly.”

  “I am happy about the interest. But I was also looking forward to having a relaxing night with you.”

  “We still can. You might need to make that announcement every so often to buy us time, but that’s a small price to pay for a successful merchandising campaign.” She picked up her champagne glass. “Here’s to selling lots of shirts.”

  “And to meeting each other at last.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” She touched the rim of her flute to his and held his gaze as she took a sip. “Delicious.” The champagne wasn’t bad, either.

  He swallowed and set down his glass. “Do you dance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you dance with me?”

  “Love to.”

  He stood and held out his hand. She placed hers in his warm, strong grip. An ordinary gesture. So why was her heart racing? When he led her out on the floor and drew her into his arms, the soft light in his eyes made her catch her breath. This was no ordinary dance.

  Chapter Three

  Michael almost forgot to move. The intense pleasure of holding Roxanne and gazing into her eyes would be wonderful all by itself. But just in time he snapped out of his daze and led her into what turned out to be the exact right number, a gentle two-step. Not crazy fast, not erotically slow. A get-acquainted kind of dance.

  “This is nice.” He tucked her in close and executed a spin. Pressing his body along the length of hers ramped him up, so he moved back an inch or so.

  “You’re good.” Her voice was slightly breathless.

  “You, too.” And curvy and supple and warm, so very warm.

  “It helps that we’re both tall.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nothing against short ladies, but they end up staring at my chest.”

  She grinned. “Same with me and short men.”

  That made him laugh. He dared another spin, tempted by the promise of more full-body contact. As he started into it, she tucked against him of her own free will, matching his rhythm as smoothly as if they’d practiced for hours.

  His heart rate picked up. “Nice moves.”

  “Just following your lead.” That breathless quality was back in her voice.

  Unless he was mistaken, they were turning each other on and the night had barely begun. He’d better pace himself. When the song ended, he suggested going back to the table.

  “Right.” Her cheeks were flushed. “We have champagne and Ellen said she was bringing hors d’oeuvres. Is that another one of your ideas?”

  “In a way.” He put his hand at the small of her back as they navigated through the couples staying on the floor for the next dance. “Usually we call them appetizers but when someone wants the special treatment, Frank steps it up a little and creates hors d’oeuvres.” He held her chair for her.

  “How is that different from appetizers?”

  “To tell the truth, it’s mostly presentation. Stuff’s cut up smaller and arranged nicely on a platter instead of tossed in a basket with a side of dip.” He took his seat opposite her. “That’s a GG secret.”

  “It’s safe with me.” She glanced at the platter of grilled mushroom caps, various cheeses with tiny crackers, stuffed olives and bite-sized fried zucchini with a tiny dish of sauce. “Frank does nice work. The artist in me appreciates the presentation.”

  “Makes sense. Have you always been artistic?”

  “Always. Got it from my dad.”

  “I thought he owned a ranch.”

  “He does.” She picked up a skewer to dip a zucchini bite into the sauce. “But his real passion is scratchboard art. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Can’t say I am.”

  “You start with a surface, let’s say poster board, cover it with white clay, then paint that with black India ink. You use a sharp tool to scratch out the picture. He’s worked in that medium ever since I can remember.”

  “Did you take it up?”

  “Tried. Wasn’t my thing. I fell in love with the digital tools, instead. I still
draw freehand sometimes, but only for the heck of it.”

  “Do you save any—” He paused as Ellen appeared beside them.

  “Don’t mean to interrupt, but are you ready to order?”

  Michael glanced at Roxanne. “Are you?”

  “Sure, but where’s the menu?”

  “In my head,” Ellen recited a list of several things even Michael didn’t know about. She described each in elaborate detail.

  Roxanne smiled. “Those all sound wonderful, but I’m a country girl. I’d like a T-bone cooked medium, a loaded baked potato and a salad with ranch.”

  “All my favorites.” Ellen gave her a glance of approval.

  “I’ll have the same,” Michael said. “But great job on the food descriptions. Now I’m worried we’ll lose you and that super memory to some upscale restaurant in a high-end market.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ellen rolled her eyes. “I love this town. I love the GG. Someday I might want to add bartending to my resume because it would give me more neat things to memorize, but I’m here for the duration.”

  “That relieves my mind.”

  “Good.” She refilled their champagne glasses. “I’ll get your order started, boss.” She hurried away.

  Roxanne watched her leave. “She’s great.”

  “She is, and so is Jenny. At one time, those two were enough of a wait staff if we added a high school student or two during the summer. But we’re in the process of hiring more full-time servers.”

  “That must feel terrific, knowing the business is growing.”

  “It does. I’m in a good place right now. Settling in.”

  She picked up her champagne flute. “And speaking of that, I don’t think you ever said where you’re from originally.”

  “Chicago.”

  “Chicago! I never would have guessed. You don’t seem like a big city guy at all.”

  “Like I said, I adapt quickly. But I was born and raised in a suburb there. My folks are still in that house. My older sister lives in a trendy loft downtown.”

  “Moving to Montana is a dramatic change for you, then.”

  He shrugged. “Just like you always wanted to live in a small town, I always dreamed of going out West.” He smiled. “And becoming a cowboy.”