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“What?”
“I’m one of the judges for the barrel racing. I guess I’ll have to disqualify myself.”
“Why? You’re not even a real judge. There’s no subjectivity in barrel racing.”
“Still—” He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. “I can hardly be impartial when I’m sleeping with one of the contestants.”
“There’s no impartiality. You just record the time and watch if any barrels get knocked over. I trust you to be fair.” She smiled. “I’m going to win, anyway. Sydney Buchanan’s the only one who has come close to my record time, and I already know I can beat her.”
He kissed her again. “Just the same, I’m recusing myself. But I’ll be there to cheer you on.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Woman, I want to. Now if you’re hungry, I’m calling room service, and we’ll have dinner together up here. And we’ll talk.”
He stood and went into the living area.
Talk? Why did he want to talk? Weren’t men supposed to hate talking?
He came back in with the room service menu and tossed it on the bed. “Order whatever you want.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Damn it, Dusty, you just said you were.”
“Oh. Right.” She had to get out of here. “I should go, though. I haven’t given Regina a workout today, and we’re competing tomorrow.”
“You know as well as I do that a day off before a competition is good for an animal.”
“Not everyone subscribes to that viewpoint.”
“But I’m willing to bet you do. With your love of animals.”
She sighed. He was right, of course. “I should get back though. I’ll need a good night’s sleep…”
“Dusty, it’s six o’clock, and we spent half the afternoon sleeping.”
“I need to call Sam.”
“So call him.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.” She grimaced at the look of surprise on Zach’s face.
He pointed to the phone on the nightstand. “So?”
“Fine.” She quickly dialed the hotel and left Sam a message.
When she was finished, Zach took the phone from her.
“This is suite twenty-five hundred. I’ll have the Chateaubriand for two, please, with green beans and garlic mashed potatoes. Oysters on the half-shell for an appetizer.” A pause. “Yeah, that’d be great. And a chocolate soufflé for dessert.” He started to put the phone down, and then spoke again. “You still there? A bottle of your best Bordeaux. Thanks.”
Dusty’s mouth dropped open. He had just ordered about three hundred dollars’ worth of food. That was her and Sam’s grocery budget for a month. At least, it had been while they were saving for this trip to Denver. The steak dinner the previous evening must have set him back about a hundred and fifty, but this was plain crazy.
“Uh, Zach?”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t need to spend that much money on dinner for me.”
