Page 43 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Such a do-gooder.
Sigh.
Okay. Imayhave been too hard on him. I mean, he didn’t know I could’ve dismounted old Bess on my own, andhehadn’t brought the reporters here.
If I want to be honest with myself (and I never do), the reporters were my fault, even if I didn’t call them. I could’ve been nicer to Pearl and let her know her designs were the fashion equivalent of fugly in a more diplomatic way. If I had, maybe she wouldn’t have opened her big, stupid, Southern lady mouth.
And if I’mreallyhonest with myself (Jesus, Holt must be rubbing off on me), the reason I was such an uber bitch to that loathsome woman had been because she quite literally had her red painted talons on Holt. And that pisses me off even more than the stupid viral picture.
It’s time to face facts. I’ve got a raging lady boner for the Leave-It-to-Beaver cowboy.
Ugh. Being honest with myself sucks.
A car door slams, followed closely by the bang of the screen door. Seeing as I just heard the ranch hands leave, and the construction workers left not long before with the promise of an early start tomorrow, it must be Holt.
And if Holt is half the gentleman I think he is, he’s brought me dinner even after I possibly overreacted earlier.Just a little bit.
Gotta love those good guys.
* * *
HOLT
I’ve never madea pizza peace offering before. But I’m pretty sure you should do it without your dick twitching.
Common courtesy and all that.
So before I get out of the truck, I need to stop thinking about the way Jules’ eyes had flashed when she’d pushed her knuckle into my chest. Or the seductive sway of her heart-shaped ass as she’d stomped up the stairs in her shitkickers. And I most certainly should not think of her teasing throwaway comment about sitting on my face.
Dick twitch.
Ignoring it, or trying to, I grab the pizza box off the passenger seat, determined to play nice with Jules. Especially now that I know exactly how much Juleshadn’tbeen overreacting.
When Rose texted the picture of Jules and me on the horse so quickly, I knew the incident was already public. But it hit home justhowpublic when the bartender at Boondoggles recognized me. I’m not sure if it was from the bar fight a few months ago between my sister and my brother’s ex, or from the picture being flashed around on the television at the bar when I went to pick up the pizza. Either way, it made for an awkward five minutes as the bartender rang up my order.
“Holt?”
I jump in my seat, Tucker having snuck up on me while I was thinking. I motion him back from my passenger side window and slide out. “Hey, Tuck. What are you still doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you before I left.”
I grab the pizza box and close the door. “What about?”
“I just wanted to say sorry for earlier. For taking Jules—I mean Miss Starr—out for a ride today.” He grabs his hat off his head, running his free hand through his hair. “Honestly, I never in a million years thought Bess would rear up like that.”
I clap the kid on the shoulder, his large muscles reminding me that he isn’t much of a kid anymore. He’s all grown up. “It isn’t your fault. No one could’ve predicted the reporters, or that Bess still had the energy to move that fast. She would’ve been my first choice for a novice rider too.”
He lets out a deep breath of relief. “Good. And I’m glad Miss Starr is okay. She’s one cool lady.”
I grunt.
“I’d hate to see a lady like her hurt.”
“Lady, huh?” I scoff, thinking of the curse words she threw at me earlier.
“Well, yeah.” He frowns at me. “What else would you call someone so accomplished and such a loyal friend to boot?”
And I’m thoroughly put in my place. “Uh, well…”
