Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,8
Formica counter, dish towel over one shoulder, as she raked a glance across the room. "Cat got your tongue, gents?" Dottie scolded, hands on her hips. "What are y'all starin' for? Ain't like you've never seen a woman dressed up professional. Now put your eyeballs back in their sockets and finish your breakfasts. I'm sure y'all have cattle that need checkin'." Dottie leveled a gaze at her. "CiCi, honey, you look like death warmed over. What in land's sake happened to you?" Dottie took her by the elbow and motioned toward the back. "You look like you need a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. Come on back and let's visit in my office. This crew don't need to be up in your business anyways."
She nodded mutely, and let Dottie usher her toward the back. She couldn't resist taking a peek at the far corner as she passed the industrial coffee maker. He was still staring. Cecilia bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. No way would he catch her smiling back at him. Devastatingly handsome men like that were good in all the wrong ways and none of the right. She'd learned the hard way that guys like that meant one thing only. Heartbreak.
Dottie swiped a coffee pot and handed it to her. "I'll get the pie. Office is in the back past the walk-in and the door to the basement, restroom is across. You might want to freshen up a bit," she tossed over her shoulder as she pushed through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Great. Cecilia placed the pot on the big walnut desk that filled the bulk of Dottie's office, and slipped into the ladies'. She took one look at her reflection and groaned. It was worse than she imagined. While there was still hair in her bun, fully half of it had pulled out and hung in disarray, her eyes were indeed puffy and a little red from crying and the all-night drive, and her mascara, while not sad-clown streaking down her cheeks, was smudged. An extra button on her tailored white shirt had come undone, exposing a little too much skin, and was wildly wrinkled from ten hours in the car. The clasp on her treasured pearl necklace had slipped nearly to the bottom. Dear lord, no wonder the cowboy had stared. No wonder they all had. She looked freshly and thoroughly fucked. A half-hysterical laugh escaped. It was only six a.m., what the heck else could go wrong?
She grabbed a paper towel, wet it with cold water and pressed it against her eyes, taking a deep breath as the cold brought welcome relief. She breathed in again, like she'd been taught through her years of yoga practice, held, and released, centering her thoughts. This wasn't the end of the world. Mariah was right - this was an opportunity. She breathed again, then dabbed at the mascara. She took another paper towel, wet it, and pressed it against the back of her neck. With a little of Dottie's pie and a shower when she arrived home, she'd be as good as new. With a shake of her head, she pulled the remaining hair from her bun, and set about replacing it. One last glance in the mirror and a confident smile that was anything but, and she stepped out and across to the office where Dottie waited expectantly, two steaming mugs of coffee and two pieces of pie set out on the desk. "Is that strawberry?" she asked, dropping into the offered chair with a relieved sigh.
"Strawberry-rhubarb," Dottie answered with a note of pride.
Cecilia grabbed the plate and dug in, ravenous. She realized with a start she hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before, and that had only been a granola bar as she'd run out the door, worried she'd be late for her nine a.m. Ha. She should have taken her time and kept Bob waiting. Lesson learned. She wolfed down the glorious slice, a perfect balance of sweet and tart, pillowed in a buttery, flaky crust. "Can I have another?" she asked, mouth still full.
"Of course you can sweetie-pie. I'll just bring the whole thing back, and you can eat it right out of the plate. No shame in that when you've had a rough go of it."
Cecilia had to hand it to Dottie - she instinctively knew what a person needed, whether it was tough talk or tea and sympathy. Often, it was both.
Dottie returned with the