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“Touché, darlin’.” Zach couldn’t help grinning.
“This looks wonderful!” Dusty raved as their waiter set their meals down.
“Best steaks in Colorado,” Zach said. “Enjoy.”
“I intend to.”
Dusty cut into her steak and took a large bite, making satisfied noises as she ate. Zach loved seeing a woman relish her food. Too many women these days were afraid to eat in front of a man. Not Dusty.
They chatted as they finished their meal, and Zach drove Dusty toward her hotel. She gushed all the way about his rented Jaguar—the plush leather seats, the incredible sound system, the lush interior. Zach knew he was rich, richer than Dusty’s family would ever be. But he wondered, given the fact that Dusty had said she hadn’t been able to finish college, if the O’Donovans were facing difficult times, more than just the day-to-day struggle of the average rancher. If her desire to ride Diablo had less to do with proving herself, and more to do with the half mil purse he’d offered.
Halfway to her hotel, he passed the stock show grounds. The night was young yet, and he didn’t want his evening with her to be over.
“You want to walk around the grounds a little?” he asked. “The vendors are here until nine.”
“Uh, sure, I guess so.”
“Unless you have some place to be.”
“No. Nowhere but here.”
“Great.” He smiled at her, his heart doing a little jump at the thought of spending another hour or so in her company. Something about her…
He parked the Jag and led her into the large pavilion where the vendors were located.
“I’d rather look at the animals,” Dusty said.
“They’re all bedded down for the night, darlin’. I’m afraid it’s only vendors tonight. But I’ll buy you a corn dog.”
“After that huge meal? You’re kidding, right?”
“Yeah, I’m kidding. But I do need a new hat. Are you looking for anything?”
“No. I’ve got all I need.”
“How about some bull riding spurs?”
“I don’t use them. I just use my regular spurs.”
Zach perused her face, stubborn and hard as granite. She sure looked serious. “Dusty, you’re telling me you’ve been riding bulls without proper equipment?”
“Frankly, I’d prefer not to use spurs at all, but Sam insists.”
“Thank God for Sam.” He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”
His favorite spur vendor had set up shop in one of the corner booths. He pulled Dusty inside.
The salesman raised his hand in greeting. “Hey, Zach. I figured I’d see you here eventually.”
“How’ve you been, Jay?”
“Can’t complain.”
“This is Dusty,” Zach said. “Dusty, Jay Ray.”
“Jay Ray?”
“Born and bred,” Jay said. “What can I do for you all this evening?”
