I thought hell would freeze over before I received a day off work at the ranch, but I was wrong. It’s well past four in the morning before we leave the mother and her new foal, so Lars offers me a day off.

I try to go to sleep for a couple of hours, but I am too excited. After fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, I hurriedly get dressed and run back to the barn. I spend most of the day gawking at the new baby. He is so cute and sweet, I can’t stop kissing him and petting him. Bessie puts up with me while I take hundreds of photos of her.

Under the guise of taking photos of the horses, I also surreptitiously manage to take a few of Lars. I’m hoping there will one or two bad ones of him, but he looks awesome in every single shot. I send Tamara the one where the shadow of his hat makes his eyes look like they’re not piercing, but kind of dull. Even so, you can see that his shoulders are strong, his hands broad and powerful, and his jaw chiseled. As I gaze at the photo, my heart swells high and tight. Everything about him draws me in a way that nothing else ever has. I say a little prayer and hope that Tamara will not be interested in him.

I spend an hour with Thunder in the yard before I go back to my living quarters and have a shower. It’s about seven when I open my suitcase and look through the stuff that I am supposed to wear if I go out anywhere as Tamara Honeywell. Tamara’s wardrobe is not something I would ever be comfortable in, but I’ll have to tough it out tonight.

I separate the clothes into three piles—tolerable, unacceptable, and absolutely not. Sixty percent of the clothes fall into the absolutely not range and the rest fall into the unacceptable pile. Only a few low-cut tops make it into the tolerable pile, but none of them are worthy of being worn on a proper date.

I look at the clock and get a shock. I never realized how much time I’ve wasted strutting around my room in a bra and an uncomfortable thong trying to figure out what to wear. I quickly put on some make-up. I know I’m supposed to pile it on, but I don’t. Tonight, I want to look as fabulous as I can for Lars. Then I turn back to the pile of clothes and groan. I just can’t bring myself to dress in my Tamara-approved gear. Not tonight. I don’t want him to look at me and think city slut.

In a moment of pure weakness, I FaceTime Jesse. Jesse can put together three rags and make it look like it came from a fashion runway. She picks up, looking flustered, so I look at the background of the frame. Before I can speak, she says, “Hey. Just give me a moment,” and starts moving out of the room she is in.

As soon as she is in another room, she grins. “Howdy, partner. You’re wearing make-up. What’s going on?”

“I’m going on a date with Lars.”

She shrieks loudly.

I ignore her and carry on. “And I need help picking an outfit. I have a suitcase crammed full of expensive clothes, but I can’t wear any of it.”

“Back up. Back up,” she says. “I need more details. What kind of date is this? Where is he taking you? Will you get a little action afterward?”

“It’s just a first date. I don’t know where he’s taking me. Nothing will be happening after,” I say, but I don’t know if I’m being entirely truthful with the last statement. Do I want something to happen?

“Then why are you wearing sexy underwear?”

“Look, can you save the interrogation for later. I only have,” I look at the clock once again, “fifteen minutes and I need your expert help.”

“Okay, flip the camera.”

I do as she asks and place the camera on a pile of clothing. I avoid the dangerously inappropriate pile and show Jesse the other two.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she mumbles, rejecting each garment that I lay down on the bed. She comes close to the camera. “I see a third pile. Let me see that,” she demands.

I know not to argue with her, as I turn the camera to the pile of clothes that I planned to never wear.

“That’s the one,” she says triumphantly. “Grab that yellow belly shirt.”

“I thought you told me never to wear yellow?” I say, not reaching for the top. Besides it’s not a typical belly shirt. It is full of artfully placed holes throughout the fabric.

“That was before you became all lovely and tanned. Yellow is a fantastic color for you now. Isn’t it scalding hot in Montana right now? A belly shirt will be tactical and cute. You can wear it with the black mini skirt.”

I wince. “The top has holes all through it,” I state.

“Your point?”

“People, country people, will be able to see my boobs,” I say, looking at the yellow top doubtfully.

“You’re wearing a bra, aren’t you?”

“But—”

“No, buts. You’ll never see those country people again. It will get him going.”

“I don’t want to get him going,” I argue.

“Lie to yourself all you want, but don’t lie to me, Cass. You know and I know you want to get him going.”

“I called you for fashion advice,” I remind.

“The tummy top is my advice,” she says firmly.

“Please, just choose something else,” I plead, flipping the camera back to my face.

She pouts. “Fine, go with the blue halter top and the black miniskirt. That’s my final decision. Take it or leave it. I’ve got to go. Guests. Call me tomorrow and tell me how hard you rode him. Much love!” Jesse makes loud kissing noises and hangs up.

I survey my three options: wear what she suggested, wear something that I choose on my own, or wear the sundress again. Lars has already seen me in the sundress, and I don’t have the time to press it, anyway. Option two really isn’t an option since I have about ten minutes left and no other ideas.

That leaves option one. It looks like I’ll be wearing a halter top on my date with Lars.

With that thought, a knock echoes through my room. I didn’t anticipate him being early, but I should have known.

“Tamara, are you about ready?”

“Nearly,” I call back. Throwing my clothes on quickly, I go to my door.