Page 11 of My Best Friend's Mardi Gras Wedding

He hadn’t seen her wrestling a sheep down for a vaccination or up to her knees in mud or dodging a pissed off goat.He hadn’t witnessed her punching Mike Trotter in the nose when she’d realized he was messing with her animals at the State Fair.Josh hadn’t seen her slip in the afterbirth of a mama sow and end up on her ass in the pile of slop in the pen.He hadn’t seen her burst out crying and run from the room when Allie Donally did a report about the inhumane treatment of animals in packing houses.He didn’t know about the time she’d been picked up by the local cops for rescuing a bunch of dogs from an area farm and hiding them in her barn.He hadn’t been in the truck when she and a group of friends hit a deer on the way to the river and she’d jumped out to check on the deer and then grabbed the shotgun and put the poor thing out of its misery when she found it still alive but dying.

All the guys she saw on a regular basis had been there for those events.They all knew her as the animal-crazy tomboy who preferred time alone on the farm and who was very socially awkward when she did go out.

Tori shook all of that off and focused on Josh.The guy who had no idea that she owned fourteen cats—and three dogs, two horses, two fainting goats, a geriatric pig, a stupid chicken named Cher, and a miniature cow.She lived on a farm.It wasn’t like she had all of those animals in a trendy apartment in some big city.But…even she knew that was a lot of cats.

And it was because of those cats—kind of—that she realized she couldn’t take a hot New Orleans bartender back to her overpriced hotel room on Canal Street.She wasn’t that girl.She might want to be that girl.A little.When that hot New Orleans bartender was holding her hand and looking at her like she amused, and aroused, him.But when it came right down to it, she couldn’t even deal with the guys she’d known her whole life.She didn’t want to talk to them or eat with them.She was far more interested in their dogs and cats.Hell, even their chickens—and she pretty much hated chickens.The only guys she liked to talk to were her dad and Andrew.And now Andrew was gaga over a bubbly, blonde heiress who probably couldn’t tell the difference between a Buckeye hen and a Plymouth Rock.

She really didn’t understand men.

“Those wheels are really spinning in that pretty head,” Josh said after a long silence.“You realizing that you could do a lot better than me?”

Tori gave him a little smile.She shook her head and reluctantly pulled her hand back from his.“Just realizing that I’m not really a gin fizz kind of girl.”

Josh didn’t say anything for a beat.Then he nodded.“I figured.”

“Yeah?”

“I think that must be part of what I like about you.”

She laughed softly.“Or is it just that I’m a brunette?”

He gave her a grin.“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

She laughed again and swiveled on her stool, sliding to the floor.She reached for her purse, but Josh stopped her.“Don’t you even think about paying for that drink.”

“You’re not getting my number.I should at least give you a tip,” she said.Was that flirtatious?Maybe.

He opened his mouth, then shut it, and shook his head.

“What?”she asked.

“There’s nothing I can say here that doesn’t sound like a come-on.”

“No?”She grinned and handed him a twenty.

He handed her back nineteen-fifty.

“A fifty-cent drink and no tip or a free drink and a fifty-cent tip?”

He tossed the two quarters in the tip bottle on the bar.“Free three sips of a drink.Fifty-cent payment for the advice to stay the hell away from N’Awlins boys who drink too much bourbon and barely recognize nice girls anymore.”

“You think I’m a nice girl?”

“I definitely do.”

She was.She didn’t realize she broadcast it quite so loudly, but yeah, she was.She nodded.“Sorry about that.”

He gave her a smile.“Somebody’s gotta go square dancing with all those nice farm boys up north.”

She gave a little gasp, but she couldn’t help her grin.“I’ve never been square dancing in my life.”

He chuckled.“But I bet you’ve let a nice Iowa boy drive you around on his tractor.”He wiggled one eyebrow suggestively.

She scoffed.“Not even once.”

“No?”

She shook her head.“Don’t need a boy for that.”Tori slid her purse strap up on her shoulder.“I’ve got my own tractor to drive around.When I’m in the mood for…tractor driving.”

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