Ruby
Mrs. Nichols shows me to my room in the main house after my walk with Dusty. There are secluded cabins not too far away, but I don’t feel like being isolated at night. Not when I overheard one of the ranch hands tell Dusty they lost another chicken to a coyote last night. I’m not sure if coyotes are dangerous to humans or not, but I’m not up for finding out the hard way.
Of course, I didn’t take danger too seriously when I agreed to stay.
Not when they told me cell service is spotty to none.
Not when they told me there was no Wi-Fi.
Not when they told me town was thirteen miles away.
Not when I saw the bulge in my cowboy host’s Wrangler jeans.
I’m not going to think about that too much right now. If that means I’m burying my head in the sand, so be it.
“Here’s your room, missy. I expect you’ll like it just fine.” Charlotte gestures me in, and I’m taken aback.
It’s more than lovely. A huge bed dominates the room with yards and yards of a white duvet puffed up with down. It’s starkly bright against the gleaming dark pillars of the four posts around it. The floor shines between braided rugs and smells like lemon.
“Mrs. Nichols, it’s gorgeous.”
She smiles, her crooked tooth endears and charms me. “I expect the minute I close this door, you’ll be jumping on the bed. It’s as tempting as a pile of leaves to a child.”
“You read my mind.”
My bags are already on a bench, ready for me to unpack. There’s an overstuffed chair in the corner with an inviting throw for a perfect reading nook. Which is good since there’s no television or even a phone in the room.
“Are all the rooms like this? So beautiful?”
“They’re all pretty, but this one is the biggest and best. The main house is finished. The team is working on building the chuck house and saloon now. Dusty has some big ideas. He’s a good man. A strong man.”
I catch her gaze as she watches me. I have a feeling she’s not talking about his brute strength, since that’s obvious in the way he’s built like an ox. “He doesn’t seem afraid of a little hard work. This place is going to need a lot of elbow grease to be as grand as ...say...the advertisement I saw for the contest.”
She narrows her eyes and chuffs at me, not the least bit ashamed of what she did. “The grand part of his plan is already here. The forest, the horses, the river, the sky. You won’t ever see anywhere else like it. The buildings and massages and gourmet stuff, that’s just icing on the cake. You’ll see. You’ll fall in love with Pair-a-Dice. We all did.”
She leaves me to unpack, and I fumble when I get to the red lingerie. I can’t help but think of Dusty and what his hands would look like as he peels the lace from my body. Would he be the gentleman cowboy? All pleases and ma’ams. Or would he be more like a wolf, tearing and snapping and feral?
My face heats up just thinking about the possibilities.
I could use some of that sweet tea right about now. I finish unpacking and grab my Kindle. There’s a lovely porch swing in the shade I want to try. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
I stop in the kitchen and ask for some tea, but Charlotte insists she’ll bring it out. I’m a guest, after all. I hate bothering her, but I know they want to impress me, so I should be gracious and make sure I seem suitably impressed. That would be the nice thing to do.
I’m about five minutes into my book when the sun is blocked by Paul Bunyan in a tuxedo. What in the world?
“Dusty? Is that you?”
“Miss Ruby, Charlotte says you ordered tea.”
He’s trying so hard to be formal as he lays out my tea and cute little crustless sandwiches that I giggle. When his face gets all red, I feel like a shit. “I’m sorry, Dusty. It’s just. I’m not sure what is happening right now. Why are you wearing a tuxedo in the middle of the afternoon and serving me iced tea?”
“Uncle Chuck rented the monkey suit.” He yanks off the clip-on tie. “I guess he thought it would make the resort part more believable.”
Everyone is trying so earnestly to make me have a nice time. The best room, the limo, the tuxedo-wearing cowboy. It’s all very sweet, if not a tad silly. “Can I tell you something without it coming off like criticism? As someone who’s worked in the hotel business for five years?”
A lot of men bristle when a woman tries to give them advice, but Dusty gets this really open look on his face, like he’s ready to soak up any knowledge I can impart. “I didn’t know you worked in a hotel. I’d love advice.”
“Well, it’s just a chain hotel. Nothing fancy. But I know a thing or two about guests. You want to give them the experience they paid for or expect. This is a ranch. Your guests don’t want tuxedos. They want cowboys and horses and to feel like they’re part of the experience. Even if it’s wrapped up in luxury.”
“So, you don’t think I should have waitstaff in formal attire?” He grins, and I realize he doesn’t either. He’s wearing the tuxedo because his uncle got it for him, and he would rather please his uncle than shame him. “How about chaps? Maybe next time, I should serve you wearing chaps.”
The thought of Dusty wearing chaps...and nothing else...pops into my mind. Judging from the smile on his face, that was his intention. You could sizzle bacon on my cheeks right now.
Dusty Cassidy is way out of my league. I’ve never dated anyone as hot or manly or driven. He’s got the kind of confidence that tells a girl he knows his way around a woman’s body. And I think he’s flirting with me.
I could flirt back. I want to. But it would be so humiliating to be brushed off. Then I’d spend the week avoiding him and hiding in my room. Which would be a shame because I think he’s nice and interesting, on top of being a total hottie, and I’d miss out on his company. I’m too nervous to make many guy friends where I live. The ones I come into contact with are either trying to move up the ladder and don’t care who they push out of the way to get to the next rung, or they have no ambition at all and don’t care who they have to be nice to if they can couch surf at your place.
Dusty is different from any man I’ve ever talked to. He’s attentive, and open-minded, and a true gentleman. He’s also ambitious, but in the good way. He wants to build something great. He wants to please his family. He seems so at ease in nature.
I just...I really want to get to know him. I don’t want to lose the connection I feel by trying too hard and lobbing a flirtation at him that misses the mark.
But if I don’t try, I’ll never know. And isn’t that worse?
Hell, I’m never going to see him again after this week. I might as well have a little fun. If nothing else, I can practice flirting so I can improve my range when I get back home. And if things go really well, my cowboy can teach me how to ride a stallion.
Easy, girl.
Here goes nothing.
“So Dusty, how does a guest go about booking her massage?”