One Night With a Cowboy (12 page)

“You’re avoiding answering my question, which makes me think absolutely nothing happened
with Emma. Which was why you were home, alone, this morning.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then prove me wrong and tell me what happened,” he challenged.

“Hey, like you said. A gentleman doesn’t talk about a lady.” It sounded to him more
like Jace had spent the night alone with his own hand and was jealous Tuck hadn’t,
but he let it drop when Jace continued, “So, what you got planned for today?”

“I’ve got a run scheduled at OSU with the cadets.”

“A run in this heat?” Jace shook his head. “Better you than me. You wouldn’t catch
me doing that.”

Tuck was sure of that, but he didn’t comment. The waitress was back, pad and pen in
hand, ready to take their order. There were steak and eggs in his future, which always
made the day better. And after the workout he’d had last night, he’d certainly need
the protein.

“A
re you sure you’re doing all right there in Oklahoma all alone?” Emma’s voice conveyed
her doubt.

“I’m good. I told you, everything’s great.” Becca tried to sound as reassuring as
possible. Emma was best kept calm, for everyone’s benefit. Besides, it was true. Things
were going fine so far.

Sure, her off-season clothes were still in big black trash bags waiting to be hung
in the closet, but she wouldn’t need her winter coats and sweaters for months yet.
She’d already unpacked the cardboard boxes full of kitchen stuff she’d moved from
home, and she was making good headway on the few other boxes of assorted stuff. She
had her favorite mug already in the kitchen cabinet. Her leather-bound Chaucer and
Shakespeare collections were arranged on the bookshelf, with the framed pictures of
her family scattered between the books. Her toiletries were in the bathroom and her
own sheets and comforter were in her bedroom, even if they were on a strange bed.

She had only moved her personal items into the furnished apartment. She’d left everything
else, furniture included, in New York. Anything she needed and hadn’t brought she
could get at the store down the road.

A fresh start. That’s what she wanted. What she needed. So far, that’s exactly what
she’d accomplished.

“Becca . . . are you lying to me?” Emma had that mommy tone in her voice again. She
really should just get married and have kids. Then maybe she’d stop mothering Becca.

“Emma, I’m fine. I swear.” She laughed, picturing Emma frowning and trying to read
between the lines during the long distance phone call.

She meandered to the kitchen and grabbed a diet soda from the fridge. For once, she
wasn’t just saying what she knew Emma wanted to hear. It was true, but she had to
convince Emma, and that could take a while. She popped the tab on the can and prepared
for a long conversation. She truly was excited, even a little nervous about starting
the new job, but it was all good.

It had been easy, too. Incredibly so. Getting the job offer. Taking it, of course.
Renting her condo in New York to an IBM executive who needed a place quick and furnished
for the next year meant she had income coming in to cover the mortgage. More important,
she didn’t need to sell and risk taking a loss, and she didn’t have to pay to move
her furniture. Knowing she had a place in New York to go back to made moving seem
less frightening. A little bit anyway.

Cradling the phone on her shoulder, she grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on the
counter and carried it along with her soda and a paper napkin into the living room.
She plopped down on the sofa and put the can on the coffee table.

A furnished two-bedroom apartment an incredibly short distance from the OSU campus
cost her about a third of what she would pay in New York. Sure, she was surrounded
by kids—students who were also renting—but that was kind of nice. It made her feel
less alone than if she’d rented in a residential neighborhood full of families. She’d
take coeds as neighbors any day over happily married couples reminding her of what
she didn’t have.

And, also on the plus side, there was certainly no lack of fast food places, all of
which delivered. She bit into the slice of cheese pizza. All right, it wasn’t New
York pizza, but it wasn’t bad. They’d acted like she was crazy when she asked if they
had fresh spinach as a topping, but still, she could deal with it. Chewing, she waited
for Emma’s next inevitable question.

“Have you called Mom and Dad yet?”

She swallowed the mouthful of food. “Yes, Emma. I talked to them this morning. And
last night, too.”

“And . . . have you called anyone else?”

“Like who?” Becca sure as hell wasn’t going to call Jerry and tell him anything. Let
him wonder how she was. How amusing would that be if he went to the condo and the
six-foot plus executive she’d rented to opened the door? If only she could be there
to see the expression on Jerry’s face then.

That bastard didn’t need reassurance she was all right after he’d left her high and
dry. Then again, maybe rubbing it in his face how well she was doing would be sweet
revenge. She’d have to consider that.

Becca reached for the can to wash down the pizza. She’d need to find a place that
made a thinner crust. Too much dough in this one.

“I thought maybe you might have called a certain cowboy,” Emma suggested.

In mid-swallow, she choked on the soda bubbles. She cleared her throat. “What?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about calling Tucker.”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it.” Becca laughed. “I’ve thought what a bad idea it would
be.”

“Why?”

“Emma, he’s probably with a different girl every night. Or at least after every rodeo.”
The way he’d strutted right up to her that night, who was to say he didn’t do that
at every event? What did Becca know except that a man didn’t get that good in bed
without a whole lot of practice.

She heard the telltale sound of Emma’s fingers on the computer keyboard. “Emma Madison
Hart, I swear to God, if you Google him, I will never speak to you again.” It had
been all she could do to stop herself from searching his name online during the past
few weeks. She sure as hell didn’t need Emma undermining her resolve and doing it
now.

“Becca, come on. What harm could it do to see if he’s listed in the local phone book?
Ooh, maybe there’s a rodeo coming up. You could happen to stop by . . .”

“And see him there with another girl? Great idea, Em. Keep those helpful suggestions
coming.” She scowled, remembering all the pretty young things hanging around behind
the chutes with the riders. They had no problem drooling over Tucker even though he
was standing right there with her. They certainly would be on him like flies on bull
manure if he were alone.

At that thought, she let out a huff. One night with a cowboy and even her analogies
were starting to sound Western.

Through the earpiece, she heard Emma sigh. “All right, but you should really consider
giving him a call. Just to let him know you’re in town. You’re new to Oklahoma. Maybe
he could show you around to all the local hot spots.”

Any spot where Tucker happened to be would be a hot spot. Becca pushed that errant
thought aside. “We don’t even know if he’s local, Em. You saw the parking lot at the
arena. There were license plates from all over the country.”

“Tucker’s truck had Oklahoma plates on it. So did Jace’s.”

Crap, when had Emma gotten so observant? “Well, Oklahoma’s a big state. He could be
from western Oklahoma or something. I still don’t think it’s a good idea and I don’t
have his phone number anyway.”

“He’s probably listed. I could just look it up for you—”

“No!”

“All right. Jeez. You don’t have to get loud about it. I’ll leave you alone. Anyway,
what’s on the agenda for your first week of work?”

She seriously doubted Emma would leave this topic of conversation alone for very long,
but at least for now there was a change in topic to her new job. This Becca could
handle. “I have a meeting with the dean tomorrow, and then he’s hosting a faculty
mixer in the afternoon to welcome me.”

“Aw. That’s really nice of him. See, I told you—”

“Yes, you did.” She rolled her eyes. “Can we put a date on when you’ll stop saying
I told you so? You know, so I can put it on my calendar.”

“How about, um, I don’t know . . . Never?”

“Great.” She groaned. She could see it now. They’d be old and gray, living in an assisted
living facility somewhere, sitting in matching rocking chairs, and Emma would still
be reminding her how she was the one responsible for Becca getting the job.

“Anyway, back to the mixer. What outfit are you going to wear? You’ll be meeting your
coworkers. First impressions are very important.”

Good old predictable Emma—always worried about fashion. Becca shook her head. “What
would you like me to wear?”

Sometimes it was just easier to give in to her sister’s bossiness. Besides, she really
didn’t know what clothes to wear—not that she’d tell Emma that. Did she dress in the
typical New York uniform of all black? She had her good black suit. Or should she
tone down the formality? Try to look friendly and casual.

Who the hell knew? Certainly not Becca. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore, except
she wasn’t going to go to a rodeo to stalk Tucker. She wasn’t even going to Google
him so she could call him . . . At least not right now.

Damn it. So much for her resolve.

“Okay, so what to wear . . . What to wear . . . Hmm, what’s the weather going to be
like there tomorrow? Is it beastly hot? The university should have air-conditioning
though, right? But where’s the mixer being held? Indoors or outdoors?”

Let the fashion consult begin. She sighed and got up from her comfy seat on the sofa.
Knowing Emma, there’d be a lot more questions—some of them might even be about her
wardrobe—so she might as well be standing in front of her closet for the discussion.

 

“So, what do you think of our little school?” Dean Ross steered the car at a crawl
past the university’s sprawling manicured lawns.

His use of the word had obviously been tongue-in-cheek. Becca laughed. “I wouldn’t
exactly call it little, but it certainly is beautiful.”

The place was huge—like five hundred buildings and who knew how many acres huge—but
lovely. Much more so than she’d expected. From the university’s original building
dating from the 1890s, to the Georgian styling of the library, student union, and
the formal garden he’d shown her, it had all been a pleasant surprise. She hadn’t
seen much more than one administration building when she’d blown into her interview,
cutting it close and almost late, the morning after . . . She stifled the thought
of what that had been after.

Dean Ross’s smile beamed with pride. “It can be a bit overwhelming, I know. Our student
union is the largest in the world, but you’ll get the lay of the land soon enough.”

Becca made a mental note to allow herself lots of time, and comfortable shoes, to
explore the student union. “Thank you. I’m sure I will.”

She glanced sideways at the man while he concentrated on a group of students crossing
the road in front of the car. He’d worn a suit for her interview last month, but he’d
gone for the casual look today��khaki pants with a blue button-down shirt and a slightly
off-kilter red tie. No jacket.

It was nice to have a boss who wasn’t old and stuffy. Pretty much the opposite of
Vassar, and right now anything different was good. She made a note of all the details
about Dean Ross and his fashion choices, down to the fact there was no ring on his
finger. Emma would most likely quiz her relentlessly on the phone later about everyone
and every little thing.

Maybe she should turn the tables on Emma—invite her here for a visit and introduce
her to Dean Ross. That would teach Emma to stop meddling in Becca’s love life. Though
her sister dating her boss could be problematic. Or maybe it could help her career.

Hmm, this was something she’d have to consider later, because he’d turned toward her
now. “So, are you ready for the mixer?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Now was as good a time as any to meet her new coworkers, she supposed. She had on
the outfit she and Emma had compromised on last night—the black pants and jacket from
the suit Becca wanted to wear, but with a periwinkle blue tank top underneath for
a pop of color and a more casual feel to go along with the open toe shoes Emma had
insisted on.

She could hear her sister now.
You want to look professional, but you also have to appear friendly, and a little
bit sexy wouldn’t hurt, either.
Becca shook her head at the memory. Sexy, at a faculty mixer. What was she doing
taking career fashion advice for her new job from Emma anyway? The woman worked as
a graphic designer, not an English professor.

Too late now. She stared out the car window through her sunglasses as the dean parked
the car. Two men dressed in camouflage from head to toe caught her eye as they walked
down the path and toward the door of the building.

“Are those soldiers?” Becca frowned. She turned to the dean as the two men disappeared
down the path and around the corner of the building. “Are we under attack or something?”

It was only partly a joke.

He laughed. “No, we’re perfectly safe. There’s an ROTC program on campus.” At her
blank stare he continued, “Military studies . . . army officer training.”

“Oh.” Nodding, she tried to look like she had some clue as to what he was talking
about, all while attempting to work out the letters in the acronym.

The officer training part fit the O and T, but she gave up on the task of deciphering
the rest when what the R and the C could possibly stand for eluded her. Good thing
she wasn’t in a cryptology military studies course. She’d fail.

“In fact, I expect they’re on their way to our mixer. The head of the program’s a
friend of mine. I invited him and told him to bring whomever he wanted. I hope that’s
all right.” With one finger, he pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher onto the bridge
of his nose.

She smiled at the dean. “Sure. The more the merrier.”

So Dean Ross hadn’t just invited the English department faculty. Hmm. Becca kind of
liked the idea. A mixer that included the English and the military science departments.
That certainly would be interesting.

Soldiers, in uniform, at her little mixer. And she’d dressed in her sexy yet professional
outfit for it. Emma would approve.

Good thing she wasn’t here to play matchmaker. If history were any guide, if Emma
had been here prodding her to do things she wasn’t sure she wanted to do, there’d
be a very real risk of Becca waking up in the morning in a bed with combat boots beneath
it.