Page 126 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“But you hate girlie things.”

She wasn’t wrong, but she also didn’t know everything about me. “I spent some time in high school trying to be feminine. I learned to wear heels then. Besides, all of my boots have heels.”

“Cowboy boots are a far cry from wedges.”

I shrugged. “Close enough.” I wasn’t about to tell her that my brothers had bet me that I couldn’t wear girlie shoes?that they picked out?for two months straight during high school. They were wrong, and they’d bought me a pair of red, glittering cowboy boots that cost a small fortune, which I still had in a box under my bed.

Jessica’s face became serious. “Okay, now we attack your hair.”

“I’ll just tease it a bit.”

“No. I’ve got it.” She bit her lip. “Although I’m not that familiar with short hair.”

“Teasing.” I took the comb from her. “Trust me.”

“You have one chance, then I’m calling in reinforcements.”

“Like who?” I asked as I started to do my hair.

“A girl at my work has a pixie cut. She does amazing things with it.”

None of the Curvy Girl Crew would believe me, but I’d also spent a year in college trying to be more feminine. I’d had the business attire complete with low-cut blouses and short-ish pencil skirts, stylish shoes, and the hair of an up-and-coming lawyer who was ready and willing to take on the world while also looking amazing.

As soon as I’d realized a plus-sized woman would never be taken seriously, I’d abandoned all of that and had jumped back into my overalls and T-shirts. I’d been much happier since.

After a few minutes, Jessica’s eyes went wide. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

I laughed. “There are plenty of things you don’t know about me.”

“Well, I just learned that you’re not as anti-feminine as you claim.”

“I didn’t used to be.”

Jessica dragged me to her small kitchen table and pointed at the chair. “Now sit. Makeup is my thing.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a finger. “Remember the way William fell all over himself when he saw you at the barn?”

How could I forget? My face warmed at the memory of him. Of us.

“Let me do this for you. I promise it’ll be subtle.” Jessica looked at me hopefully.

“Fine,” I said. That red lipstick had been a good idea.

As Jessica ordered me to close my eyes or look up or pucker my lips, my mind went back to William.

We’d only talked on the phone since breakfast the day before, and he’d warned me that his mother would likely try to corner me at this party and push me out of his life. I took that as a challenge that I was looking forward to, and I told William not to worry about it. If I could deal with a bunch of Texan men with huge, yet somehow fragile, egos my whole life—not to mention college and law school—I could certainly handle his mother.

“Will you stop smiling for a minute?” Jessica said.

“Sorry.” My lips tended to curl up whenever I thought about William. I cleared my mind and moved to a subject I knew would keep my thoughts away from him. “How was Danger Zone today?”

“Awful.”

“Awfully hot?” I asked.

“That too.” Jessica looked at the ceiling without tilting her head up. “Do this.”

I complied as she put eyeliner on. “What draws you to him?”

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