Page 67 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
Stone looked at his father, laughing and chatting with some of the police officers near him, and the love that shone in his eyes made me so happy. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “My dad.”
I squeezed his hand, conveying all my pride and love for him into that touch. “Seems like a few things have changed for you this week.”
Stone slung his arm around my shoulders, drawing me into him, and I breathed in his scent, the spicy cologne that I had missed so much while we were apart. “Penelope,” he said quietly, his lips pressed to the top of my head. “Everything has changed. Absolutely everything. And I’ll tell you all about it. But first,” he stepped away from me, placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the horse like it was his job. I grinned as he reached for me.
“I don't’ know if I can do it without Smitty’s stairs, Cowboy.”
“Sure you can. Just put your foot in the stirrup and hold on to me.”
I did as he instructed, and was soon snuggled against his warm broad back, my arms wrapped around his waist as he sat astride the horse, when I had a sudden thought
“Stone? What’s this horse’s name?”
Stone laughed out loud. “Penelope, you’re not gonna believe it when I tell you.”
“What?”
“This horse’s name is Crockett.”
I was stunned. “You’re joking!”
“I am not. When I saw it on the stall, I knew he was the one I had to ride today.”
It was serendipitous, to be sure, because John Wayne had played Davy Crockett in the movieThe Alamo.
And if that wasn’t an appropriate horse for us to be riding, then I don’t know what was.
I turned my head to see my mother smiling at me as tears slipped down her face. I waved as she blew me a kiss.
When everyone was mounted again, the police cars bleeped their sirens one more time and then Stone coaxed our horse into motion and I held on to the man I loved as he turned us west into the setting sun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Stone
The casino floor was buzzing, the sound of happy chatter a low rumble that hung over the louder noises of slot machines and roulette tables. I stood near the bar, a glass of bourbon in my hand, and surveyed the room, that feeling of pride swelling in my chest again as I did.
The Alamowas incredible and I loved every square inch of it. From the rounded cream-colored corners of the external façade, to the wooden finish on the bar tops and the tin lantern style lights that hung throughout the cavernous space, I felt like my heart and soul was in every aspect of this hotel. It spoke to me on a visceral level, breathing life into me as I wandered the halls, drinking it in.
The sound of laughter drew my attention, laughter that I was very familiar with. I turned my head to see Penelope, looking incredible in a floor-length black gown, her hair falling in golden waves down her back, the daringly high slit in the side of the dress parting as she moved to reveal her sexy pink high heels.
As if she could feel my stare, Penelope turned my way, a slow smile spreading across her face as she took me in, uncomfortable as fuck in my tuxedo, but playing my role for the evening. With the amount of press and celebrities here, it was important that all the Pennington staff looked the part, even, and maybe most especially, me.
Earlier today, Harold had held a press conference, officially announcing me as the new CEO of Pennington Hotels and the subsequent media frenzy had left me exhausted. I was glad for the quiet time with my bourbon. In all my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined ever ending up here; it all just seemed so surreal. Standing in a hotel that I had a hand in launching, practically from the ground up, as the CEO of my father’s company was completely surreal. Hell, even just being on cordial terms with my father would have been beyond belief as little as six months ago.
But so much and changed, and it all came down to that bombshell in the pink heels. Penelope had opened my eyes to so many things, and I could never thank her enough for it. She had shown me that it was okay for people to make mistakes, okay to forgive them, and that vulnerability is not necessarily a bad thing. Because being vulnerable to Penelope? Opening my heart and letting her in, even knowing the wreckage she’d leave behind if she left? That was worth every ounce of risk. Just to get to hold her, to spend my days in her presence and my nights in her arms, made all the rest bearable.
Penelope was light and goodness and laughter and all the things I was missing in my life due to my own stubborn pride.
And, God, how I loved her for it.
I was drawn from my mushy thoughts and from admiring Penelope’s incredible legs in that dress, when Harold approached me, his own tuxedo looking sharp and a sparkle in his eye I hadn’t seen before. The man looked happy. I guess the prospect of retirement after over fifty years of hard work would make anyone happy.
“Stone, my boy. Great work earlier. The vultures sure did love you. Those camera jockeys were eating up your pretty face, weren’t they? I bet they’re glad to see the backside of this old man, don’t you think?”
I smiled into my glass, shaking my head. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be sick of me in no time. After all, a pretty face, maybe, but a pretty personality? Not a chance.” Penelope may have softened me in some aspects of my life, but I was still the same grouchy asshole in others, in business most of all. I was determined to continue my father’s legacy in a way that would make him proud, and I couldn’t do that by being a pushover.
“Just remember, son. You catch more flies with honey, yes? It’s a balance. You can be the smiling face they want to see, but don’t ever let them forget that that smile belongs to a shark.”
