CHAPTER 10
She’d knocked his socks off, showing up dressed to the nines, half uptown girl, half urban cowgirl. The effect was intoxicating, and he was a dirty dog bastard for wanting to get her out of that fringed skirt and discover if the sheer thing she wore was a shirt or a bodysuit. Heaven help him if it was a sheer bodysuit.
For half a minute, he’d been embarrassed she’d caught him with his friend Trevor’s party girls. But he had nothing to be ashamed of. They’d just been hanging out, relaxing in the hot tub when she’d knocked. Although it pained him to admit it, his promiscuous days had ended months before he’d come home to Prairie. He might have rightly come by his bad boy reputation, but truth be told, he’d grown tired of it. Somewhere deep inside him, by little increments over the past year, a longing had erupted that couldn’t be assuaged by the average buckle bunny. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. He had everything he could possibly want – fame, wealth, a sweet ranch in the mountains. He’d chalked his discontent up to exhaustion, figuring he was just tired of living on the road most of the year. Not for the first time, he worried something was wrong with his equipment. But kissing Lydia in the barn at his brother’s wedding, hell, seeing her rip off her dress, had put an entirely new twist on things. All he had to do was remember how glorious Lydia had looked in the moonlight, skin glowing in red lace, and he became hard as iron with no relief until he’d put himself out of his own misery.
But other women? Even half-naked ones? Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
So yeah, he was concerned.
Lydia’s presence here put an end to his speculation. His equipment worked just fine. In fact, he was trying to do everything he could not to show her his equipment was ready and rarin’ to go. A flimsy hotel towel didn’t offer much protection from her sharp eyes.
“What’s this about Grace boots?” he repeated.
She worried her lip and looked away.
Ah, so there was something to Grace boots. Had she returned to Prairie to start something? Suddenly, he was grateful he’d offered to help his brother with Resolution Ranch. “Lyds?” he pressed, stepping into her space and taking the box.
She took a deep breath, shoulders rising. “I have a proposal for you.”
Awareness zinged through him, firing up all his nerve endings, and he tossed the box on the bed. “We finally gonna pick up where we left off?”
She shook her head once. “We both know I’m not one-night-stand material.”
“Who says it has to be that?” One look at her face and he instantly regretted the words. He didn’t even know where they came from. The flat-out disbelief etched on her face and the way she rolled her eyes, ate at him. He was capable of more than a one-night stand. He’d just never been interested before.
Her hand was warm on his face as she gave him a pat and a funny little smile. “I’m not your type.”
It took everything to not encase her hand in his and keep it there. “Maybe you are.”
A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “Maybe when hell freezes over. In the meantime, I have a business proposal for you.”
A business proposal?
“Wait,” he snapped, stung. “So your stupid crazy itch to see me again was because you have a business proposal?” He crossed the room in four steps, stopped, turned, and stalked back. “So I’m not good enough for a fuck, but I’m good enough to do business with?” He didn’t care he was being crass. Her estimation of him hurt.
She seemed entirely unfazed by his outburst. “I’ve always thought there was plenty of good in you, Colton.” She winked. Winked.
“But not good enough,” he spat.
She lifted a shoulder, the sexy half-smile he liked so much returning. “You like being bad. Being shocking. It allows you to keep people at arm’s length. In bed, I’m the kind of woman who will always want more than you’re willing to give. But in business? I think we could be good for each other.”
Her words hit him like a rampaging bull. “But you made a pass at me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Her face flushed pink. “I did,” she answered in measured tones. “You’re as handsome as they come, Colt. And I was intoxicated. And you’re charming. Too charming. But that doesn’t mean we should go there.” For a split second, remorse covered her face. “Even you had the presence of mind to take a step back.”
“Something I’ve regretted every day for the last three weeks.” He captured her gaze, letting his words sink in. It might be unwise, admitting it. She could use it against him. He’d met plenty of women who would. But Lydia the rule-follower seemed hell-bent on breaking all the rules where they were concerned. The scorching look she aimed at him went straight to his balls. Did she regret it too? Hope sparked in his chest.
Her tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip, and her voice wavered when she spoke. “Open the box.” She jerked her head toward the bed.
With a frustrated sigh, he went to the box and opened it, giving a low whistle. They were incredible. A fucking work of art.
“Kangaroo tops and American alligator vamps.”
He nodded, studying the craft. She’d gone with a traditional embroidery design on the tops, but had used metallic threads alongside traditional thread, so that the pattern took on dimension. In the negative space, she’d inlayed more alligator. On the pulls, she’d inlayed his initials. They were the finest dress boots he’d seen. Subtle, yet oozing style. He glanced back over his shoulder. She stood eyes downcast, worrying her lip. Was she seriously concerned he wouldn’t like them? “They’re hot shit, Lyd.”
The tension left her body. “Try them on?”
“Towel on or off?” He smirked, heat rising through him at the thought of getting naughty with Lydia in nothing but a pair of boots. Her boots.
Her mouth twitched. “I told you to get dressed.”
“Best way to show off a pair of boots is in nothing else.”
Shaking her head, she turned around. But not before he caught her smiling openly. Colt rolled up the socks she’d included in the box, then sat to pull on the boots. His foot slipped in like it was greased in butter. He stood and shut his eyes, reveling in the feel. The arch hit him perfectly, and there was plenty of room in the toe box. Damn if she hadn’t ruined him for any other pair of boots. “They fit perfectly,” he called over.
Slowly, she turned, her gaze dropping first to the boots, then crawling up his body. Her sexy smile returned, and he stood a little straighter under her scrutiny. “You look good. Real good.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll look better without the towel.”
“Before you say that, read this.” She dug into the small bag she carried and pulled out a bundle of folded papers, holding them out.
“What’s this?” She shook the papers, and he took them. He scanned the papers, stiffening as anger and disbelief knotted in his chest. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No way.”
Panic flashed across her pretty features. “What do you mean?”
“No one, and I mean no one offers fifty-one percent of their business to a potential investor,” he growled. “You’ll lose a lot more than your shirt that way.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What if I said you’re taking a chance on a no-good untalented designer who’s a bad bet?”
Someone said that to her? Anger flashed in his gut, hot and sticky. He’d happily take aim at the asshole who’d told her that. “Whoever said that never put a foot in your boots.” He raised a finger. “But that’s not how you make an investment opportunity attractive. Besides, if you’d just asked, I’d have helped you out.”
She scowled. “I don’t want a favor. This is a business proposition.”
“And clearly, you don’t know the first thing about running a business.”
“But I’m good.” She gestured to the boots.
“Yes. You are. And you’re smart. Too smart to make a rookie mistake like this. What gives?”
Her color heightened. “I was hoping it would incentivize you to be hands-off.”
“That’s not how you get me to be hands-off, darlin’.” He shook his head with a laugh. “The more money I invest, the more hands-on I’m going to be.”
“But Travis mentioned you were going to be a silent partner,” she said in a small voice.
He puffed out his cheeks and stared at the ceiling, blowing out a long breath. “That’s… different,” he finished lamely. “And fundamentally more complicated.”
“I see.” Disappointment radiated from her.
He hated that. Hated to see her upset, knowing he might be the cause. But this wasn’t the average endorsement deal he made, where he whored out space on his body for a fancy company logo. This was… personal. “What do you think your start-up costs will be?”
“I can bootstrap it for about twenty. I have some savings left–”
“But you don’t wanna operate without a safety net. Believe me.” He scrutinized her, in full business mode now. “Where you gonna get your clients?”
She met his gaze directly. “I was hoping you could help with that.”
“How are you gonna compete with the likes of Paul Bond? Or Heritage?” He ran a hand over the back of his head. “Hell, what about Lucchese or Tony Lama?”
Fire snapped in her eyes. “While you were carousing and rodeoing all over the west, I worked with one of the finest shoe designers in the world. My designs are good, my fit is excellent, as you can attest to, and I understand instinctively how to make the perfect shoe or boot for the client.”
He liked her all riled like this. Passionate and strong. Too many times in their youth, she’d let the others run roughshod over her. Hell, he’d been as bad, maybe worse than the others doing it too.
“You’re an influencer,” she continued. “You wear my boots tomorrow night, and people will take notice. I’m ready to take orders and work fast. A couple of years of hard work, and I can hire a team. Scale up.”
“What happens when you can’t keep up with orders?” Hell, a couple of Instagram posts from him, she’d probably have orders for six months, or more. And once that first wave of clients spread the word, she’d be inundated.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Besides,” she added. “I don’t need world domination. I just want to make a living doing something for myself.”
That, he understood. The pride of accomplishment. Of being able to stand on your own two feet and look the world in the eye. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Their gazes tangled and the air between them sparked with a moment of mutual respect and more. So much more. She was damned irresistible. Unable to stop himself, he closed the distance between them.
“One kiss. Just one kiss, Lyds. While we’re both sober and in our right minds.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, not missing the shiver that went through her.
“I don’t think I can possibly be in my right mind when you touch me that way,” she murmured, never taking her eyes from him.
It might only be a slight opening, but he’d take it. He lowered his head, brushing his mouth against hers slowly. When she didn’t pull away, or push him, he pressed more firmly, nearly dropping to his knees when she leaned in, opening her mouth. She tasted better than he remembered. He caught the faint taste of whiskey on her tongue, but heat enveloped him as they deepened the kiss and his mind reeled from the pleasure.
With a groan, he pulled her close, winding an arm around her. Her hands fluttered up his chest, touching, caressing, landing on his shoulders as she stood on tiptoe, pressing into him. “Ah, Lydia,” he sighed as he peppered kisses along her jawline. “Let me make you feel good. Let me show you how good it can be.”
She stiffened in his embrace and pushed on him.
Disappointment crashed through him as he dropped his hands and took a step back, hands raised in surrender. “What? What’d I do?”
With a heavy sigh, she pressed her hands to the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Flashing her palms, she spoke. “Business. We can’t–”
A ringtone sounded in her purse.
“Ignore it,” he rumbled.
She shook her head as she rooted in her bag. “I can’t. That’s Lex. She only calls if it’s super important.” She glanced back with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry. It’ll just be a second. Hey,” she said into the phone.
He fisted his hands on his hips, letting out a ragged breath. Cockblocked by the sister. The Grace sisters had an uncanny ability to show up at the most inconvenient times.
Lydia’s face paled, and she covered her mouth with a gasp. “Noo. Oh poor Caro.”
“What?” he growled, protective instincts arising from someplace deep within. “What is it?”
She looked at him wide-eyed, shaking her head. “When?” she asked her sister. Lydia’s face crumpled at whatever Lexi told her.
Dread pooled in his stomach. Had something happened to Dottie? Whatever it was, by God, if he could, he’d help her.
“I’m on my way,” she said quietly and disconnected. “Carolina’s fiancé was killed a few hours ago. I have to go.”
His feet were already moving to his suitcase. “I’ll take you to the airport.”