Cowboy Dreaming

She might as well have announced that she needed him to perform brain surgery. “Uh, you look fine to me.” And yep, he’d added that “uh.” It was catching.

“Then look again,” she complained. “So help me, you’d better not tell anyone about this.” Hope threw off the tablecloth/shawl and whirled around with her back to him.

And all the air was suddenly sucked off the entire planet.

That was because the back of the dress was open—wide open—and Josh could see her naked back. He could also see the top of her naked butt. Holy moly. Either she was wearing the tiniest panties in the known world or...

“I had to ditch the bra because the straps were showing,” she added. “The panties, too, because they gave me a muffin top.”

That was better than the hard-on he was getting from being aware that she had gone commando. Best to minimize the time he had of this view by fixing the zipper. Fast. Josh immediately started to tug at it.

“I know the boots don’t go with the outfit,” Hope went on. “Karlee took me shopping, and I bought some sparkly sandals, but I didn’t have time to get a pedi, and my feet look awful. I’ve got some scabby bits of toenail polish still there from the pedi I had done about six months ago. People notice things like that.”

Since he’d never paid attention to a person’s toes, he wasn’t buying it. “They’re more likely to notice the horse shit on those boots,” he mumbled, but obviously he needed to work on his mumbling skills because she heard it just fine. She made a sound of agreement and looked down at the boots.

“Just wear the sandals,” he advised her though he had no idea why he suddenly considered himself a fashion guru.

It probably had to do with his fried brain.

The zipper wasn’t budging, and the dress was as slick as saddle oil. It kept riding up with each tug, and in order to hold it in place, he had to place his hand on Hope’s left butt cheek. Hence, the fried brain.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of experience getting a woman into a dress,” she said, with a chuckle.

None. But thankfully he hadn’t needed any help with getting a woman out of one. Best, though, to keep that remark to himself—especially when Hope decided she should help. She reached back between them, her fingers knocking into his. Also knocking against the front of his jeans.

And she went stiff.

Josh didn’t have to guess why. She’d felt his erection.

She turned, looking up at him. Causing Josh to curse. “I’m a man,” he reminded her. “That dress is hot. And I’ve seen parts of you that your ranch hand shouldn’t see.”

The corner of her mouth lifted though there sure as hell wasn’t anything to smile about, and she slid her gaze down the front of him. From his shirt all the way to the part of him that’d caused her to turn toward him in the first place.

“You can look at the dress all night long if you come to the party with me,” she said with a wink and a sly smile.

Josh laughed before he could stop himself—though there wasn’t anything to laugh about, either. But leave it to Hope to say the right thing to make this situation a little less embarrassing.

Of course, the embarrassment gave way to a new problem. That was because she kept staring up at him. So close. Just a few inches away. He’d seen that look in her eyes before. The day they’d let a prize stallion cover some of the mares.

Horse sex.

Lots of it.

And while it wasn’t especially romantic to watch, maybe it had reminded her of human sex. Because in one unguarded moment when Hope had glanced at him, Josh had seen the itch inside her.

An itch she was considering, and one that he could scratch just fine.

He could have, too. Josh could have peeled off her jeans, got between her legs and taken her then and there against the corral fence, but those minutes of scratching could mess up things for years. Maybe forever. After all, when the sex had finished, she would still be his boss, and he loved this job too much to screw it up by screwing Hope.

“Well?” she prompted. “You’ll go with me to the party?”

“No,” he repeated, getting his mind off sex and such, and he caught just a glimpse of her scowl before he whirled her around to have another go at the zipper.

Josh tugged and pulled. Unfortunately, he pulled hard enough that this time Hope’s butt bumped against the front of his jeans. Despite the logical argument that he’d just given himself about loving his job/not screwing it up, he got the other reminder.

The I’m a man one.

Just when Josh thought he was going to have to excuse himself to take a cold shower, the zipper from hell finally gave up the fight, and it slithered closed from butt to nape. No more peep show or booty bumps, so maybe now his erection could soften. He got a jump start on that softening, though, when the tack room door opened.

Hope and he scampered away from each other as if they’d been caught doing something wrong. However, the jumpy movement got the attention of the people in the doorway.

His mom and dad, Mattie and Elgin.

They were clearly on their way to the party and had on their Sunday best. His dad was wearing a suit, looking about as uncomfortable as Josh would be if he had to wear a tie. His mom was in a blue dress that she had probably saved for months to buy. Her grandmother’s rhinestone necklace glimmered around her neck.

Both of them looked at Hope and him before looking at each other. Their eyebrows were raised as if trying to figure out what was going on, but then they shook their heads and shrugged. Obviously they thought there was no chance in hell that Hope Applewood would have anything to do with the likes of him.

“Beaver told us you were in here, talking to Miss Applewood,” his mother commented.

“Termite,” the hand called out to correct her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock,” Hope said, going to them. She shook their hands. “It’s good to see you. And please call me Hope.”

His parents both gave her polite smiles and greetings—which didn’t extend in any way to Josh. “You’re not dressed for the party,” his mother pointed out, her voice crisp and weary at the same time. “I told you he wouldn’t be dressed,” she added to her husband.

“I’m not going.” And Josh hoped he didn’t have to keep saying that.

Tears sprang to his mother’s eyes. Yes, actual tears. Mattie was a crier, complete with a trembling bottom lip, and while he wasn’t completely unaffected by it—she was his mother, after all—Josh had grown tired of it. Better yet, he’d learned not to give in to it as he had for the first thirty years of his life.

Hope fluttered her fingers toward the door. “I’ll just go and give you some time with your folks.”

Josh didn’t want time with them when he knew what was coming—a browbeating attempt to get him to that party. Apparently, though, his parents did want that time because they stayed put. They didn’t intentionally block Hope’s exit, but that’s what they were doing. Probably because they had their attention nailed on Josh and no longer noticed she was there.

“Your mom told you that she’d arranged for you to meet someone at the party,” his dad piped up.

“Yes, the new doctor at the hospital,” Josh verified. Dr. Marie Stapleton was the daughter of one of the former maids at the Granger Ranch. Marie had apparently done what Josh’s folks had wanted him to do, so maybe they thought he needed a visual to clarify their dreams for him. “I told Mom I didn’t want to meet her.” Josh braced himself because the crap-storm was about to hit.

His mom’s eyes got even more teary. His dad huffed. For such a simple sound, it carried a lot of emotion and old baggage. “We just want something better for you than you have.”

“Something better than we have,” his mother amended. “Give us one good reason why you won’t go to the party and meet Dr. Stapleton. Just one good reason,” she emphasized.

Hope turned to him, and it wasn’t the itch look she gave him this time. There was sympathy in her eyes. And maybe a little anger, too, because this was the kind of stuff she got from her own parents. She had an advantage, though, because her parents didn’t live in Wrangler’s Creek, so they weren’t always right underfoot, but they did make trips back to see their daughter and to attend parties thrown by their old friends, the Grangers.

“One good reason?” Hope repeated. “Well, I did ask Josh to go to the party with me.”

And she’d just thrown the ball into his court.

“I was just trying to convince him to go when you came in,” Hope tacked onto her thrown ball.