Page 8 of Catch Me, Cowboy
Shelby raised the glass and took a healthy swallow, but she didn’t much enjoy the excellent cabernet that ran down her throat. Stupid nerves.
“Better,” Cassie said. “So you’re going to hunt him down and tell him how it’s going to be?”
“As soon as I figure out how to get hold of him.” Since her plan was only about twelve hours old, she hadn’t done any ground work. Instead she’d waited for her bar date with Cass to bounce the idea off her friend, formulate a strategy and then put it into action. “I heard a rumor that he’s staying at the Circle C.” She’d also heard he was looking for work. The grocery clerk had been a veritable well of helpful information earlier that day after she’d announced to Shelby that Ty was back in town. “Since Saturday is my half day, I figured I’d drive out to see him tomorrow.”
“Or you could stroll across the bar right now.”
Shelby’s heart jumped at her friend’s calm statement. Despite her resolve not to react to anything Ty-related, Shelby’s stomach tightened as she turned to follow Cassie’s gaze to the entryway, where her ex-everything stood surveying the place. He was wearing his hat, of course, a blue plaid shirt, and worn jeans that weren’t in any way tight, but somehow hinted at the hard muscles beneath the denim. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Crazy hot mouth. Oh, yeah. That was Ty.
He was so damned attractive that it hurt a little to look at him. He’d been hers, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted another woman, but he’d wanted that damned rodeo and those damned silver buckles.
Well, he could have them and she hoped, in a very cliché way, they kept him warm at night. In fact, she wished they were keeping him warm at this very moment and that he wasn’t here, because she wasn’t yet ready to put her plan into action.
She turned back around, took another chug of wine, and got real with herself. If four years hadn’t made her feel ready, what good would another day do?
No good at all.
Shelby pushed her chair back. The amazing thing was she’d worn a dress tonight. And makeup. She might not be mentally prepared, but physically she was ready.
“Now?” Cassie asked in surprise.
“Now.” While they were in a public place, where it was so much easier to end a conversation. Besides, the quicker she acted, the more likely she was to hold the advantage. Ty wasn’t expecting her to approach him.
Cassie raised her glass in a tiny salute, then shook her long blond hair back over her shoulders. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”
“Shouldn’t take long.”
She hoped.
*
Ty saw Shelbythe instant she got to her feet. And she saw him.
She left her friend at the table and started navigating across the room toward him, weaving in and around people. She approached a narrow space between two guys and flashed a smile at them before slipping through, making Ty feel as if he’d been hit in the gut. It’d been too long since he’d seen her smile, and from the way her face once again settled into a coolly detached expression when she looked back at him, he didn’t think he’d be seeing it any time soon.
A guy standing at the bar reached out to touch her arm when she passed and Shelby stopped, pushed her long honey-brown hair back over her shoulder. It rippled down her back as she said a few words to him, then she nodded and once again zeroed in on Ty. He did her a favor and closed the distance between them before she’d taken too many more steps or been stopped by another guy.
As she came to a stop a few feet away from him, she smiled—for the benefit of the crowd, no doubt—because there was nothing close to a friendly expression in her eyes.
“Ty. I thought we might have a word.” She motioned toward a lone bar stool at the opposite end of the bar and, when he nodded his agreement, she turned and started moving.
Ty followed, nodding at a couple of people on the way. Old acquaintances that appeared surprised to see him there with Shelby. He didn’t slow down to talk, but instead kept his eyes on Shelby, letting his gaze slide down to the movement of her hips beneath the slick white fabric of the dress she wore, then bringing them back up to her face when she turned toward him before pulling out the barstool with one hand. Ty would have helped, but that would have meant getting close and instinct told him to keep his distance—at least until he knew what was going on.
The bartender, who was wearing the same overly bright blue shirt as the rest of the staff, with FlintWorks emblazoned across the front, took a quick sideways step to where Shelby had settled on the bar stool.
She smiled at him and nodded at her half-full glass of wine. “I’m good.”
The guy gave Ty an expectant look as he leaned on the bar next to Shelby. “I’ll have”—Ty frowned as he looked at the unfamiliar names on the tap handles—“your most popular draft.”
“Triple C coming up.”
Shelby’s skirt had slid a little further up her smooth thigh now that she was seated and Ty tried to remember when he’d last seen her in a dress. A wedding maybe? She cleared her throat and he brought his gaze back up to her face.
She took a cool sip of wine. “First of all, I apologize for overreacting when you came to the ranch. You surprised me.”
“Yeah. I kind of figured that. If I’d had your cell number, I would have called.” He gave her a humorless half-smile. “And then we never would have seen each other in person.”
“Probably not.” She set the glass down, but kept her hand on the stem. “Like I told you before, over is over.”
