red, the quarter panel blue, and hints of yellow paint showed through the rust on the tailgate.
Sheesh. Eric drove a Lincoln; his brother drove a disaster. Gloria was right—Sarah was hanging out with the wrong brother.
Chapter 5
Lane stood beside the truck, leaning against the cab with his arms folded over his chest and his ankles crossed. He should really pick Sarah up at her door, but there was a camera perched over the entrance to the apartment building and a bell on the door frame. He wasn’t about to stand on the doorstep with his hat in his hand like a supplicant, waiting for Sarah to buzz him in. That would put way too much control in her hands. And while he’d started to like her and even respect her, he wasn’t about to hand over the reins.
He shouldn’t have even invited her to the rodeo. While it would give him the advantage of pulling her out of her world and into his, he wasn’t sure he could endure the ribbing he’d get from the other competitors when he turned up with Miss Priss. She’d stand out like a long-haired cat at an all-dog poker game, and he’d never hear the end of it.
But it would almost be worth it to watch her climb into the truck in that sleek little skirt of hers. He was thinking so hard of the view that would offer that he almost didn’t recognize the woman who whirled out the door and down the steps. Either she’d stopped at the Boot Barn on the way home or she had a hidden cache of cowgirl clothes.
He should have known she’d dress right. She was obviously the kind of woman who had to be the master of any situation, so she’d hardly dress inappropriately for any occasion. That realization made him want to take her to a pool party, or maybe one of those skeezy bars where the girls dressed like hookers. See if she was up for a challenge.
He opened the truck door and held out a hand for her but she ignored him and hauled herself up into the passenger seat on her own. He couldn’t help noticing the way the jeans stretched over her curves as she climbed in. They were lightweight denim, faded to a summer shade of pale blue and worn in all the right places. She caught him staring at the big Wrangler W on the back pocket like he was trying to relearn the alphabet. She scowled, and he shot back a know-it-all grin just to annoy her.
“You look nice. Thanks for dressing down.”
“I like to fit in,” she said.
“You do, don’t you, princess? Not me. I like to stand out.”
She’d practically handed him that point. He was starting to enjoy this game.
“Do me a favor,” she said. “Don’t call me princess.”
“Sorry.” He gave her a full-bore Carrigan grin, the one that had charmed rodeo queens and barrel racers from Tennessee to Texas. “Just trying to be nice, that’s all. I said I’d show you the good side of the West, and that’s what I aim to do.”
“All right.” Her girlish brand of spunk made him want to tease her, in a big-brother, kid-sister kind of way. He half expected her to stick out her tongue or punch him in the arm.
“Maybe in exchange you could show me the good side of Sarah Landon,” he said. “Assuming there is one.”
“I don’t know.” She folded her arms over her chest and skootched down in her seat, frowning at the city as it petered out on either side of them and gave way to open fields. “If there is one, you’re sure not going to find it at a rodeo.”
***
Settling back in her seat, Sarah tried to ignore the flutter of apprehension as she and Lane headed toward her hometown and the past she’d worked so hard to leave behind. There’s nothing to worry about, she told herself. Concentrate on Lane.
It was just for one night, after all. She’d listen and fake interest in what the man had to say, and then she’d go back to work and find ways to get Two Shot to roll out the welcome mat for the Carrigan Corporation. She had to get that done no matter what Lane Carrigan wanted.
And being with him wasn’t that much of a hardship. He might be arrogant and obnoxious, but he seemed to have a sense of humor. And he was, without a doubt, the sexiest cowboy ever to