Her Sexy Vegas Cowboy(4)

Practically rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, he gave himself a mental shake. It was time to stop focusing on this one woman. If she called, she called. He couldn’t let something as little as a chance meeting of eyes disrupt his entire weekend, even if picturing her sent a strange new thrill through his chest...and elsewhere.

Aaron promised himself he wouldn’t think of her again for the rest of the weekend.

They entered the casino and dodged through tourists and gamblers until they stood in front of the reception desk, where a pretty, young hotel clerk waved them over. Jeremiah leaned in, whispering frantically before they got within earshot of her, “You already got a girl. This one’s mine.”

Aaron had absolutely no problem with that. Jeremiah was usually the one going for strange women he had zero chance with, not Aaron. Once in a day was enough for him.

Jeremiah rested his arms on the counter, taking up all the space available, leaving Aaron standing behind him, glad to have a good view of what he was sure would be quite the interaction. Jeremiah leaned in slightly toward the clerk, and Aaron could tell he was trying to read her name tag. “Hi, Lucy. How are you on this beautiful evening?”

The woman gave him a polite smile. “Fine, sir. What name is the reservation under?”

“Aaron Weathers,” Aaron called over Jeremiah’s shoulder.

As usual, he’d reserved both his and Jeremiah’s rooms, since his friend hated the idea of paying for a luxury suite and had tried a few times to get them some basic rooms to cut down on costs. Aaron’s ranch was working smoothly, his inheritance was well invested and dropping a couple grand on some hotel rooms was worth it if it could give them an amazing weekend.

As the woman typed in the information, Jeremiah tilted his head toward Aaron. “That’s my friend. I’m Jeremiah. We’re here for the rodeo. Have you ever been to the rodeo?”

“No, sir, I haven’t. Mr. Weathers, we have you two down for a suite, is that correct?”

Jeremiah jumped in quickly. “Suites, with an S. Two separate suites. We won’t be staying together.”

Aaron stepped up and slapped his friend on the back. “I think she gets it, Jeremiah,” he said as he handed the woman his ID and credit card.

As they left the counter with the key cards, Aaron studied the indomitable Jeremiah. He seemed just as happy as ever, despite being completely dismissed by the pretty clerk. Aaron wondered for the first time if Jeremiah purposely flirted with women he couldn’t possibly get.

It was an interesting thought, but he dismissed it. Jeremiah was just so unstoppably optimistic that he had to assume every girl wanted him, despite whatever evidence he was faced with.

They maneuvered through the casino to the elevators and made their way to the top floor. The suite was as spectacular as Aaron remembered, with a private bar area and separate rooms. The Las Vegas Strip shimmered from the huge windows. Jeremiah turned to him. “Okay, so we have about two hours before we need to leave for dinner. The girls are going to meet us there. Quick nap, and then we meet up? If things go according to plan, it’s going to be a long night.” Jeremiah seemed giddy at the prospect.

Aaron nodded, but couldn’t summon his usual enthusiasm, even with Jeremiah practically dancing with excitement. By the time he was in his room, he was so frustrated at his inability to focus his mind away from his airport mystery woman that he simply gave up; he fell asleep imagining her walking up to him, sliding her arm around his neck and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.

* * *

JESSICA LEANED BACK in the limo as it slowly wound through the city. She had assumed they would be heading to the hotel and crashing for the night—after all, it was nearly ten and they’d just gotten off a long flight—but apparently she’d been wrong. They were stopping at the Palazzo, one of the glitzy casinos on the Strip, just long enough to drop off their bags and change, which for the rest of the girls seemed to mean slipping into shorter skirts and higher heels and throwing on some more makeup.

Jessica opened her small bag and looked at her two dresses folded next to her jeans and T-shirts. The jeans looked so comfortable, but she could just imagine Cindy’s reaction if she even tried to put them on and grabbed a dress instead. It was a purple lacy thing that went to her knees—she had purchased it for a cousin’s summer wedding the year before. It wasn’t as comfortable as her jeans but was as close as a dress could get.

As she held it up to see how wrinkled it was, Cindy spoke up behind her. “No. Jessica, you are not wearing your purple ‘wedding guest’ dress. It’s not a clubbing dress!”

“I don’t have clubbing dresses. You know that,” Jessica reminded her friend, hoping Cindy would accept it and let her slip it on.

Cindy gave her a triumphant smile, and Jessica waited for whatever disaster it foreshadowed. Cindy said, “It just so happens that I was very aware of that and took the liberty to pack a few dresses for you. And shoes that match so you don’t try to wear those boots or whatever ridiculous shoes you brought.”

Jessica almost said something about the difference in what she and Cindy considered to be ridiculous footwear, but she kept her mouth shut. It was her friend’s weekend—she could suffer through a few uncomfortable nights. She shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss. It’s your weekend.”

Cindy’s grin widened. “I was really hoping you would say that. Ladies, Jessica needs help with her hair and makeup. Hurry! We have dinner reservations.”

In less than a minute, Jessica found herself sitting on the edge of the hotel room’s bathtub, her eyes closed, with Cindy and Alexis or whoever tugging at her hair, the one who was either Marilyn or Arely brushing eye shadow across her eyelids, and somebody else scraping at her lips with a lipstick pencil thing.

“This color is perfect on you,” one of them said. Jessica couldn’t move her mouth to respond or open her eyes to see who it was.

She had been Cindy’s guinea pig enough times to not move unless she wanted a burn from a curling iron or a stab in the eye, so she just stayed still until they moved away, satisfied.

“You look so pretty!” Cindy exclaimed. “And don’t you dare tuck your hair behind your ears.”

Jessica glanced in the mirror. Actually she did look pretty good. Her hair curled over her shoulders in a way it never did for her, and her eyes looked big and greener than usual.

“We need to get going,” Cindy called out to the women as they rushed around making last-minute adjustments to themselves.

Jessica had just realized she was still wearing her button-down shirt and yoga pants from the flight when a small red bundle of fabric hit her arm. She looked to see who had thrown it.

Cindy smiled at her. “Put it on and don’t complain. We have to go!”

The moment she unrolled the dress, Jessica could see why Cindy had waited until the last minute to give it to her. “Cindy, this is going to be way too short on me. I can’t wear this.”

Cindy didn’t even turn around. “Don’t care. You said I’m the boss. It’ll be fun!”

Jessica bit back her grumbling and slid into the dress. Her legs stuck out of it like flagpoles, and if she pulled it down another inch, the top would reveal enough to get her arrested for public indecency. What was Cindy thinking?

But there was nothing to be done. She slipped into the four-inch heels that Cindy had set beside her, a pair Cindy had tried to get her to borrow at least a dozen times and had now finally succeeded in foisting upon her, and left the hotel room without looking in the mirror. She didn’t want to know how awkward and gangly she looked.

She felt as if she was towering over everyone else, but there was nothing she could do about it. They were already on their way, off for dinner and clubs and who knew what else?

Before walking out the door, though, she rushed back to her pants and pulled a slip of paper out of the pocket. She folded it carefully and slid it into the tiny purse Cindy had lent her. Not that she would call him, of course. It simply felt better to have it with her. Just in case.

Back in the limousine, Jessica felt like leaning her head against the window, but forced herself to sit upright. It had been a long day, and all the excitement left Jessica feeling worn down, her nerves frayed from the constant chatter. And it had hardly begun.

But she was determined to stay optimistic. It could end up being a fun evening if she managed to stay awake past her ten-thirty bedtime. Besides, there was a possibility she could meet Aaron the cowboy again, magically solving her dilemma about whether or not to call him. It wasn’t too far beyond the realm of reason, and even if it was, a girl could dream, couldn’t she?

Jessica would have slapped her own forehead in annoyance if she was sure Cindy wouldn’t yell at her for messing with her makeup.

Jessica watched as Cindy and her friends danced to the loud music thumping through the speakers she had somehow managed to block out—it was some song she’d never heard but they all seemed to know—and they were laughing and shouting unintelligibly at each other.

She smiled at them, glad they were enjoying themselves, but she couldn’t help feeling incredibly out of place. Again.

It would take a lot of liquor to get her even half as comfortable and free as these women were at the moment, despite being stone sober. Why couldn’t she just let loose and dance and giggle like them?