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“I don’t know. Rich, handsome…maybe even royal.” Maggie laughed. “That’s it. I want my own crown-wearing Prince Charming.”
Yikes.Although Vi understood the need for Maggie to bolster her courage during Kitty’s nuptials, which were very much likely to happen, Maggie was setting the bar extremely high and was likely to be disappointed. Vi didn’t want her to experience more upset.
“A real prince? Those are rare, Mags. We get one or two at Harvard. But very few and from such small kingdoms that a royal title seems a bit sketchy.” The last thing Maggie needed was a sketchy guy in her life.
“You’ve met a prince? Get out.” Maggie bumped her shoulder playfully against Violet’s, fixating on the wrong thing. “Can you introduce me?”
Double yikes.Violet wanted her sister to be happy, but not at the expense of tenure.
“No, Mags. I can’t afford to do anything that will look bad to the review committee.” Violet had to have a squeaky-clean reputation both on and off campus.
“Come on. One prince. For me.Please?” Maggie set her beer in the sand, laced her fingers, and propped her chin on her digits. She blinked her big eyes at Vi.
“Well…” Violet was close to her sisters and wanted them to be happy, especially Maggie, who’d had a difficult year or so. “I can’t do anything until I get tenure. So, you better hope Kitty’s wedding is in the distant future.”
Maggie threw her arms around Vi. “I knew you’d find me a prince!”
“Excuse me, ladies.” A cowboy appeared in front of them. His tan cowboy boots were buried nearly to his ankles in the sand. He was tall, muscular, and wore a wide-brimmed black hat. “Have you seen a white horse?”
Violet blinked. She leaned closer to Maggie. “I think I’ve had too much to drink. I’m seeing things. Specifically, a tall, sexy cowboy with kissable lips.”
Said cowboy apparition grinned as if he’d heard her.
Maggie shaded her eyes with one hand. “I’m seeing the same mirage. But it’s got to be a hallucination. We don’t get cowboys in the Hamptons. Now, if he was a polo player…”
Horse hooves thundered toward them from behind.
“Never mind, ladies. I see her.” The cowboy walked past them and whistled shrilly, then called, “Tally-ho!”
“I’m so confused. Now the cowboy is calling out the fox hunt?” Violet was afraid to turn around and look, because if he wasn’t there, someone had spiked her wineandMaggie’s beer.
“It’s no mirage, Vi.” Maggie shoved her feet in her sandals and stood, helping Violet to her feet.
They both turned just as a white horse skidded to a halt, practically landing on its haunches, and sending a wave of sand toward Violet and Maggie.
The cowboy didn’t move a muscle other than to hold out an apple slice. “Good girl, Tally. Easy now.”
The mare’s pink nostrils flared. Refusing the treat, she jerked her head to look at Vi and Maggie, flanks heaving as if she’d run much more than she was used to.
“You want a slice of apple, don’t you, girl,” the cowboy said in a sultry voice that tugged at something deep in Violet’s chest, something she’d locked away during her first year at Harvard. “You want it more than you want to trample me or these pretty ladies.”
Violet gasped. Unlike Maggie, who was a big animal veterinarian, Vi wasn’t used to being around anything larger than a golden retriever. And trampling…
“I’m just kidding.” The cowboy gave Vi a look over his shoulder that made her pulse beat like castanets in experienced fingers. “Tally’s as gentle as a kitten, aren’t you, honey?” His voice was deep and rich with a slight Texas twang. And just listening to it made Vi think of long, slow kisses on cold winter nights.
The mare took a step closer to the cowboy, then another. She heaved a sigh as if giving in to the inevitable, to this cowboy, to this man, to the idea of his kiss.
And Violet had definitely had too much to drink because that cowboy called to her the same way he called to that horse of his. She took a step closer. And then another.
In one smooth movement, the cowboy leapt onto the mare’s back–no saddle, no reins, no halter.
“Oh.” Violet’s knees went weak. He was hot, hotter than Lily’s fiancé, actor Judson Hambly. “Oh,” Vi said again but dreamily this time because it seemed required. Everything about the man was larger than life. For the past six years, men in her life were mostly limited to Shakespearean heroes who leaped off the page in her dreams or poorly produced movies.
“Thanks for your help, ma’ams.” The cowboy extended a hand toward Vi, as if for a shake.
Violet eyed that hand. Handshakes were rarer now that the world had been through a pandemic. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t run screaming, which would have made Tally bolt to Sag Harbor.” His hand still hung in the air between them.
