Page 8 of Country Mist

He gave a low chuckle. “And I thought you had damned me to hell.”

She held her hand to her stomach. “The jury’s still out on that.”

“Tell you what, Haylee.” His voice dropped an octave, and he said her name in a way that weakened her knees. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty that night.”

She swallowed. “I’ll be ready.” She moved the phone from her ear and pressed the off icon.

Haylee faced her sisters and put her hands to her mouth.

“Well?” they both demanded.

She lowered her hands. “He’s picking me up at 7:30.”

The girls squealed, and Haylee found herself in a group hug. They tumbled to the floor, laughing and giggling.

When Haylee had caught her breath, she sat up straight. “I can’t believe I just asked Tyson Donovan out on a date.”

“You’re going to have a fantastic time.” Leeann sat back on the floor, her legs straight out and bracing herself with her hands.

Jill wrapped her arms around her knees as she settled next to Leeann. “You’ll have to tell us everything.”

Haylee grinned and shook her head. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets.”

“Not from her sisters.” Leeann’s eyes sparkled. “Neither one of us is seeing anyone. We need to know all so we can live vicariously through you.”

“No promises.” Haylee smiled from one sister to the other. “Who knows, this might be a terrible idea.”

Leeann smirked. “Or it could be the best idea ever.”

3

Haylee gripped a glass of champagne as she moved through the crowd in the Scottsdale art gallery. To her relief, the showing had a good turnout, and it wasn’t just her family dropping in to give their support.

“The artist’s work is lovely.” A woman pointed to an acrylic of prickly pear cacti, purple fruit on each of its pads. “That would look wonderful in my office.”

“It would fit in perfectly.” The man standing next to her nodded. “I’ll let the gallerist know.”

Haylee moved away before the couple could catch her eavesdropping.

“I understand you’re the artist.” A lovely lady with long dark hair and model-fine features stepped beside her.

Haylee came to a halt and smiled. “I am.”

“I adore your art.” She spoke with a slight Spanish accent as she scanned the paintings on the easels and those on a wall. “I wish I could buy a dozen.”

“Thank you.” Haylee laughed. “I appreciate the compliment.”

“You deserve it.” The woman pointed to a painting of a saguaro with blooms on each arm and silhouettes of two more cacti in the background. “I’ll take that one.”

“I appreciate your interest in my art. Let me find the gallerist for you.” Haylee scanned the room then inclined her head toward the corner, where she saw the gallerist chatting with the couple who had expressed interest in the prickly pear painting. “Mrs. Rhodes can help you with your purchase. I can take you to her.”

“I’ve got this.” The young woman waved her away. “I know you’re busy. A lot of people showed up tonight, so I’m sure you’re in high demand.”

Haylee gave her another smile. “Thank you.”

Haylee was surprised to find that several of her original works had sold in just the first hour. She adjusted her white embroidered peasant blouse, brushed her palms down her broomstick skirt, and straightened her spine. Another couple of hours to go.

“This one is my favorite.” A familiar, deep, masculine voice had her spinning around, and she came face-to-face with Tyson.

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