Cowboy Strong - Carolyn Brown Page 0,9

slumped down into the rocking chair in her bedroom and took a deep breath. The ball was rolling now, and there was no way to stop it. She thought back to the time when she and Pax were kids. She’d chased him on the playground. He’d stolen a ribbon from her hair one day and refused to give it back, so she’d taken his pencil that afternoon in English. It was still in her memory box where she kept her prize things, like the rock they’d both found on a science trip in the sixth grade. He’d let her have it, and she’d thought he liked her.

She checked the time and realized she needed to get a shower and figure out what she would wear, so with a long sigh, she pushed up out of the chair. She opened the memory box, took out the pencil and rock, and smiled at the vision of Pax as a young kid when his voice hadn’t even changed yet.

Maybe things would have been different if both of them hadn’t been so damned stubborn after that incident behind the barn when they were thirteen. She’d snuck back there to get away from all the people who were still hanging around after the fall ranch sale and dinner. Paxton had appeared out of nowhere and sat down beside her—and out of nowhere he’d kissed her. She drew back her fist, opened it before it made contact, and slapped the fire out of his cheek.

She could still see him jumping to his feet and grabbing his face. His voice had cracked when he said, “Why’d you do that? I thought you liked me.”

“Not like that,” she’d said. “And don’t you never try something like that again or next time I’ll hit you harder.”

He’d crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t kiss you again if you was the only girl on earth.” Then he’d stormed off into the dark, and they had both run from the emotions of that first kiss all these years.

“He didn’t have to go and kiss another girl the very next day at school,” she muttered. “I don’t know if he really liked me or if he wanted to start kissing, and I was available.”

A shiver ran down Alana’s back when she thought of how Pax’s touch still affected her like that first kiss had—leaving her a little bit breathless and speeding up her pulse.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Maybe this month will get him out of my system. God knows I need to if I’m ever going to move forward with a real relationship.”

She hated lying to her father, but in the last few hours, the sadness had left his eyes, and he’d talked about nothing but the wedding. If he passed away before the wedding, she and Paxton would simply break up. If not, then they’d get an annulment or a divorce. Either scenario would bring on the gossip mongers like ants to an open sugar bowl. She could handle all that if her daddy could die a happy man.

Just thinking those last few words caused a lump in her throat that was difficult to swallow. She shook her finger at her reflection in the mirror and whispered, “You are making Daddy’s wishes come true. It doesn’t matter how much flack you get over it all or how you might feel. This is for Daddy, and you will pull it off, no matter what it takes. No one will ever, ever know that it wasn’t all real until the breakup, and then I’ll even take the blame for it, so that Pax’s reputation won’t be ruined.”

With new resolve, she turned away from the mirror and went into her bathroom to take a shower and wash her hair. She came out of the bathroom with a towel around her hair and another wrapped around her body. She had thirty-five minutes to get ready. She quickly dried her long, blonde, naturally wavy hair and drew up the sides with a pretty silver and turquoise clamp. Then she slapped on a bit of makeup—a tiny bit of eye shadow and a little lipstick. She opened the closet doors and picked out a lovely off-white dress with spaghetti straps, a tight bodice, and a flowing skirt that stopped at her knees.

It took her awhile to decide between a pair of light brown sandals or the cowboy boots that she’d gotten got for her birthday last

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