Page 19 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Still…”
“It’s just a dance, Reggie. Not a big deal.”
Except it is a big deal. Huge. Because it means stepping into a role, I’ve never played before.
“When is it?” I ask.
“October fifteenth,” she says. “It’s formal, so you’ll need a suit.”
A suit. Christ. When’s the last time I wore a suit?
“I’ll need to get measured for one,” I say.
“Reggie can do that,” Sarah says with a smile that’s a little too innocent. “She’s got all the equipment in her sewing room.”
I look at Reggie, and she has a deer-caught-in-headlights expression. Her gorgeous brown eyes wide, and her tongue darting out to wet her full lips.
“I mean, if you want,” she says, and her voice sounds a little breathless. “I do alterations. It would be easier than going to the city.”
I let my eyes travel over her beautiful face, taking in all I can, and fighting to keep my gaze above her chin. “That’d be great.” My words come out rough. Then, I see Reggie’s eyes go down to my mouth before she looks away quickly.
What am I doing? Getting measured for a suit by the woman who’s making my dick hard with just a smile? The woman whose sad eyes makes me want to do insane things?
I’m afraid none of this will end well. But Annalise is already planning our dance moves, and Reggie’s looking at me like I’m some kind of hero, and she’s so unconsciously sexy, she makes my hands itch to pull her into my arms. And I know I’m too far gone to back out.
“This is going to be the best dance ever,” Annalise announces.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I reply, trying to ignore my doubts.
A father-daughter dance. With Reggie’s daughter. And before that, I have to let her mom, my forever dream girl, put her hands all over me to take my measures. What could possibly go wrong?..
Seven
Reggie
“This is going to be the best dance ever,” Annalise announces, practically bouncing in her chair. “I’m going to wear a purple dress with sparkles, and Blayne’s going to wear a fancy suit, and we’re going to dance to all the pretty songs.”
“Sounds perfect,” Blayne replies, and I can see him trying to process what he just agreed to.
I’m trying to process it too. This man, this gorgeous, intimidating man who’s been carefully avoiding me for years, just volunteered to take my daughter to her school dance. My relief is overwhelming, but under it there’s something else. Something that has nothing to do with Annalise and everything to do with the way he looked at me when he said yes.
“When do you want to do the measuring?” I ask, proud that my voice sounds steady.
“Whenever works for you.”
“How about tomorrow after school?” I suggest. “Maybe four-thirty?” At least the kids will be home. We won’t be alone…
“Four-thirty works.”
We’re being so polite, so careful, but there’s an electricity between us that has nothing to do with the dance and everything to do with the fact that we’ll be in a room together, with me putting my hands on him.
“I should probably get your number,” I blurt out, then immediately feel my cheeks warm. “You know, in case something comes up. With the fitting.”
“Right. The fitting.”
He pulls out his phone, and I do the same. His fingers brush mine when he hands it back after entering his number, and the brief contact sends heat up my arm.
“I saved it under ‘Blayne,’” he says, and there’s the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And I know where you live.”
