CHAPTER 6

Vince found Georgie’s obvious pride in her stepsister touching. No doubt Georgie hadn’t wanted to come down to Sadie’s tonight knowing she’d likely run into him, but she’d done it for Anastasia’s sake. That took selflessness and strength of character, two things he admired.

But Georgie wasn’t just proud of Anastasia. She was fiercely protective, too. She’d tried to disguise it, but Vince was paying attention and he’d caught her intense expression prior to Mac’s first comment. Woe to that cowboy if he hadn’t made a big deal out of the drawing. Vince wouldn’t have wanted to be in his boots.

Having Georgie on your side would be . . . amazing. Her loyalties ran deep. Bickford might be crumbling around her, but she wouldn’t give up until she was the last person left. She was like a captain who had pledged to go down with the ship. She might not be impressed with him, but he sure as hell was impressed with her.

Once Mac recovered from the shock of discovering that Anastasia had drawn his picture, he paid for her draft beer and insisted that he’d buy her dinner, too. Vince couldn’t get a bead on how Mac felt about Anastasia, but she seemed to have a gigantic crush on him. That might not be such a great thing. Mac was several years older and had a history of failed relationships.

Meanwhile Travis, poor guy, couldn’t take his eyes off Anastasia. All they needed to make this a true fustercluck was for Georgie to become interested in Travis. That would guarantee nobody would end up happy. Fortunately Georgie wasn’t casting longing glances in Travis’s direction.

So far the Bickford sisters and Vince’s group were the only ones in the saloon. Anastasia’s drawing had created a bond, so when Mac suggested they push a couple of tables together before ordering dinner, everyone agreed. Mac held a chair at the head of the table for the new celebrity and sat down on her right. Travis grabbed the place to her left.

Three chairs remained—one at the far end, one next to Mac, and one next to Travis. Georgie took the end chair and Vince sat next to Mac. That put him closer to Georgie than she might have liked, but he couldn’t help that. He did his best to ignore her nearness and the inevitable brush of their knees under the table.

Ike took their orders and relayed them to Henry in the kitchen. Then he made sure they all had drinks and brought out chips and salsa.

Studiously avoiding looking at Georgie, Vince kept his attention on his other dinner companions. He tried to block out the rhythm of her breathing, but that was fruitless. Nothing new there. He could admit it to himself now—she’d always turned him on.

Mac continued to hold on to his portrait. “I need a safe place for this. Maybe I should take it up to my room so it doesn’t get food on it.”

“Or I can put it back in my messenger bag for the time being.” Anastasia unhooked her bag from the back of her chair and set it on her lap.

“That works.”

“I’ll tuck it inside my sketch book so it won’t get creased.” She pulled out the tablet.

“You have more paper?” Travis gazed at the sketchbook.

“Yes.” Anastasia slipped Mac’s portrait inside the back cover of the sketchbook. “Why?”

“Well, I . . . you probably wouldn’t want to do this, but I was wondering if you’d—”

“Sketch you?”

“Yes, ma’am. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Anastasia looked pleased as punch. “Of course not. I’d love to.”

“I don’t know, Travis.” Mac frowned. “Her dinner will be showing up soon. You don’t want to be bothering her while she’s trying to eat.”

Vince ducked his head to hide a smile. Mac liked being the only one with a portrait. Thank God for some comic relief from his two crazy friends. He’d never seen them compete for the same woman before. This could be entertaining and keep his mind off Georgie.

“It’s not a problem,” Anastasia said. “I work pretty fast. I’ll get it done before the food comes, I’ll bet. Then after we eat, I can sketch Vince if he wants.”

“Me?” He blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion and not sure how he felt about having someone draw his picture. It could be kind of embarrassing to sit there while she did it. He started to tell her never mind when he noticed the eagerness in her expression. Instantly he reversed direction. “I would be honored. Thank you.”

“Great!” She pushed back her chair and propped her open sketchbook on her bent knee. “Travis, I think I’ll do yours in profile. You have a great nose.”

“I do?” He peered at the sketchbook.

“A classic nose. But don’t look at what I’m doing. Face Mac. Look over his shoulder. That’s good. And hold still.”

“A classic nose.” Travis grinned. “Like the pharaohs.”

Mac groaned. “Now you’ve done it, Anastasia. I’ll be hearing about that classic nose all the way back to Midland.”

“Anastasia needs to see my Egyptian dance. It matches my nose.”

Vince laughed. Watching Travis’s turn on the hot seat was fun. Travis obviously loved the attention and he was working it, doing his best to gain an edge over Mac, who’d looked like the frontrunner at first. Now Vince wasn’t so sure. Travis had a way with women.

Travis and Mac traded inventive insults that made Anastasia crack up, but she kept drawing. She was obviously a pro at this. He wondered if she was using her talent for anything besides sketching visiting cowboys. He wasn’t looking forward to his turn, but he’d do it. She was a sweet kid and he wouldn’t hurt her feelings for the world.

A light touch on his arm surprised the hell out of him. He turned toward Georgie, astonished that she’d do that. The sensation of her fingertips on his forearm lingered, tantalizing him.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her soft, sexy voice made him think of things he shouldn’t, such as what she’d feel like beneath him on a cushy mattress, something he’d probably never know. He didn’t have to ask her what she was thanking him for. This was all about her sister. Apparently she’d caught his hesitation before he’d agreed to the portrait.

He gave a little shrug. “No problem.”

Georgie continued to keep her voice low as she leaned closer. “I haven’t seen her so excited about her work in a long time.”

And speaking of excitement . . . Vince breathed in the scent of wildflowers. Whatever perfume Georgie had worn last time he’d seen her must still be her favorite. One whiff of it affected his heart rate and carried him back in time. They used to dance the night away in this saloon, but no matter how much he’d flirted with her, she’d never agreed to hang out with him except on the dance floor.

Sitting at the dinner table with her was a first, but it hadn’t been her choice. She was only here because of Anastasia. In fact, she was only talking to him because of her sister’s artwork.

Okay, he could discuss that. He mirrored her action, leaning forward. This close he could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Her mouth had always driven him crazy—so plump and inviting. Considering the lack of eligible men in town, he wondered when she’d last been kissed. “What’s happened with her art?”

“She graduated from art school, but since then she hasn’t been motivated to do much. If we still had tourists in town, I know she could sell her watercolors. She could even set up a booth somewhere to do quick sketches like these.”

Vince nodded, although he struggled to pay attention. Instead he watched the seductive movement of her mouth as she talked. He got the gist, though. Georgie thought, given an influx of tourists, Anastasia could draw portraits and make money at it. She was probably right. A lot of people loved having someone draw their picture. He wasn’t one of those people, but at least nobody else was in the saloon right now so he’d have relative privacy for his sitting.

“I just wish I knew a way to bring back the tourist traffic. We need businesses that would attract people, and who would look at Bickford and see an opportunity to make money?”

“I don’t know, Georgie.” He said her name on purpose to make the exchange seem more intimate and personal. If he could wave a magic wand and restore the town to its former glory, he’d do it, partly for the good of all, but mostly for her. “It’s a damned shame.”

“It is.” She held his gaze.

He’d never had such a long time to stare into her eyes, and he discovered something fascinating. The longer they looked at each other, the faster her breathing became. Could she be attracted to him after all? Her eyes darkened in a way that usually meant one of two things—either a woman wanted him or she was ready to clean his clock.

If they’d been talking about the Ghost, he’d think Georgie was working up to a good fight, but they’d been discussing the revitalization of Bickford. He couldn’t escape the conclusion that Georgie, despite all her behavior to the contrary, found him sexually attractive. That was a revelation.

He smiled. “Listen, I wonder if—”

“Vince.” Her voice vibrated with emotion. “Is there any way . . .” She paused to take a breath. “Is there any way I can convince you to—”

“Dinner’s ready!” Ike deposited plates in front of them, which ended the charged connection and cut off whatever Georgie had been about to say.

Unfortunately Vince could guess what that had been. Georgie might have some erotic feelings for him, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten about those horses. He didn’t want to discuss them with her, because he was going out there tomorrow, whether she wanted him to or not. This was a wild stallion they were talking about, not some fragile creature that would keel over from fright if three cowboys showed up.

The Ghost was no shy guy. He’d successfully lured a mare out of the Double J pasture on a moonlit night Vince remembered well. The wranglers had heard a commotion and had poured out of the bunkhouse in time to see the mare clear the fence and take off with the stallion.

Vince, Mac, Travis, and a couple of others had given chase but they’d had no luck catching them. In the days that followed, they’d tracked the herd, but they’d never been able to get close enough to retrieve the mare. The loss of the mare didn’t matter anymore, but Vince was curious to see if the Ghost was as magnificent as he remembered. Something about that animal called to him. He wasn’t leaving Bickford without tracking him down.

Yeah, he itched to rope him and feel that wildness and power humming through the braided hemp. He craved a contest with that muscular stallion. But he might decide against doing that.

Thrilling though the prospect might be, roping the Ghost was pretty stupid and potentially dangerous. Guaranteed that Anastasia had made up her fantastic story about the stallion going rogue and Vince didn’t believe a word of it. But roping any unpredictable two-thousand-pound animal was risky.

Still, he didn’t want to make any promises to Georgie about what would or wouldn’t happen in the morning. He wanted the freedom to act in the moment, the way the Ghost did. Tomorrow would be an adventure, and he didn’t want to be bound by anything or anyone, including the very enticing Georgie Bickford.

*   *   *

Georgie remembered now why she’d never allowed herself to spend quiet moments with Vince Durant. Dancing a spirited two-step with him had proven to her that he was one potent cowboy. But as long as she’d remained a moving target, he’d never been able to get a bead on her and she’d kept herself safe from his mesmerizing sexuality.

Sitting at this table where he was too damned close, where their knees sometimes touched by accident, where she had no excuse to twirl away, she was caught by his magnetism. She’d done her best to concentrate on the issues at hand—Anastasia’s art, Bickford’s future, and the Ghost’s freedom. But underneath those concerns lurked images of tangled sheets and slick bodies. Judging from the smoky sensuality in his blue eyes, Vince was thinking of the same thing.

She wanted to blame it on her circumstances, but that was a cop-out. Vince had always posed this kind of danger. She might be more susceptible to him now, but he’d tempted her years ago even when she’d known he wasn’t right for her. He was no more right for her tonight than he’d ever been, but logic had nothing to do with the heat she felt when he was this close.

Maybe it was better that Ike had interrupted her before she could ask Vince to stay away from the Ghost. If he’d agreed, if he’d continued to look into her eyes with sex on his mind, she would have been lost. She might have done something she’d bitterly regret, like show up outside his hotel room tonight.

If she did something that bold, he’d invite her in. She didn’t doubt that for a minute. And he’d be a wonderful lover if the gossip had been true. She had no reason to suppose it hadn’t been.

But she wasn’t looking for a night with a cowboy who had no plans for his life other than riding over the next hill to see what was on the other side. She didn’t know how in hell to keep Bickford from sinking into oblivion, but somehow she’d do it. That was her goal and would remain her focus.

Vince didn’t fit into that scenario. He might have stirred up buried urges, but he was leaving tomorrow. One night of hot sex would only make her want something that wasn’t likely to happen again in the near future. She had enough frustration in her life without adding more.

Anastasia had finished Travis’s portrait, and he left his plate untouched as he raved on about how great it was. Mac asked her to pull out his picture so he could study it some more. As both men lavished praise on Anastasia, she looked happier than Georgie had ever seen her. This was what she deserved, to be surrounded by people who valued her talent. If they happened to be hot cowboys, that was a bonus.

Georgie hoped the glow would last for a while after the three men left, because she needed to come up with a game plan for her sister’s art. Maybe she should check out art galleries within driving distance to see if any of them would carry Anastasia’s work. She didn’t know how her sister would feel about that, but something had to be done. Anastasia was wasting away in this little town and the arrival of Vince and his friends had proven it.

About the time everyone had finished dinner, the senior citizen brigade arrived for the nightly poker game. Among them was one of Georgie’s favorites. Frank Bryson, a retired lawyer, was about the same age as Clyde, the eightysomething mayor of Bickford.

Frank and his wife, Sue, had bought a house in Bickford twenty-five years ago after staying at the Double J and falling in love with the area. They’d been one of several retired couples who’d babysat for Georgie after her mother died. Like many of his friends in Bickford, Frank had accepted that property values had plummeted, but he and Sue couldn’t face the idea of moving.

The poker players gathered around the table while Travis and Mac showed off their portraits.

Frank glanced at Vince. “Where’s yours?”

“I haven’t done his yet,” Anastasia said. “It’s his turn right now.”

“Great!” Frank clapped his hands together. “We get to see an artist at work. Don’t mind us. Go ahead and immortalize this joker. Then we’ll all play cards.”

Georgie peeked over at Vince. He hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place and now he’d have an audience.

Anastasia, high on her success, was oblivious to Vince’s discomfort. “Vince, why don’t you change places with Travis? The lighting’s good where he’s sitting. And take off your hat. You have wonderful hair. I love drawing good hair.”

Vince cleared his throat, and Georgie braced for his refusal. She couldn’t blame him. She wouldn’t relish this kind of attention, either.

To her surprise, he pushed back his chair and stood. Then he took off his hat and handed it to her. “Would you please keep an eye on this?”

“Sure.” She was too startled to do anything but take it. As she clutched the black Stetson, she felt somehow connected to him. A cowboy’s hat was precious, and he’d entrusted his to her. She told herself not to overthink it.

Vince ran his fingers through his hair as he walked toward the seat Travis had just vacated. The anxiety in his expression reminded Georgie of someone taking the witness stand in a trial. Her estimation of him went up a notch. She wouldn’t have thought that he’d do anything he didn’t really want to do, and yet here he was, posing for a portrait because it would make Anastasia happy.

Anastasia busied herself opening her sketchpad and picking up her charcoal while she answered questions about her technique from the older men gathered around her. At last she glanced up at Vince and her movements stilled. “You look nervous.”

“I am.”

Georgie’s heart squeezed. She hadn’t wanted to feel attracted to this guy, and she definitely didn’t want to feel compassion for him.

“You don’t have to do it,” Anastasia said. “Really, you don’t.”

Vince took a deep breath. “I want to.” Grabbing the chair, he spun it around and straddled the seat. “Go for it.”

Georgie gulped. Damn, he was sexy.

Anastasia sat with her charcoal poised over the pad. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” His gaze briefly touched Georgie’s. “Better to do something you regret than not do it and regret it later.”

She got the message. He was going after the Ghost. But if he intended to rope that horse, he’d have to get past her first.