Page 3 of Blue Moon Cowboy
Lainey had even managed to put together an easy no-bake dessert. She used to enjoy cooking when she was younger, but she wasn’t a fan of trying to make anything complicated in her tiny van kitchen.
Besides, there were so many fascinating things to do other than slave over a hot stove.
Lainey got out of the van and made her way to the back door of the house, where she cleaned her boots before she went inside to the guest room she’d called hers for the last week. She hurried to take a shower and wash her hair, letting it air dry as she decided what to wear.
Thanks to Liz’s kindness, all but the clothes Lainey had worn that day were washed and neatly folded, waiting to be repacked in her suitcase.
The evening would likely be cool, now that the sun had gone down, but she also wanted to look nice for the party. Lainey chose a burgundy dress with a knit top and layers of lace on the skirt. To give it more western flair, she added a silver concho belt that had been a gift from a woman she’d interviewed in New Mexico. Maria Velez had started her own small jewelry store forty years ago. It now employed three dozen people in four different locations, and had made her a wonderful addition to Lainey’sPillars of the Westbook.
Lainey settled silver hoops in her ears and fastened a simple silver chain around her neck, then laid out a classic denim jacket in case she needed it later.
After finger-combing her wavy hair, she applied a little mascara and lip gloss, touched her pulse points with her favorite perfume, and tucked her phone into the pocket of her skirt. She slid the strap of her camera over her head and right shoulder, shifting the camera to rest against her back. It was out of the way but available when she wanted to take a photo. She grabbed her jacket and left her room, making her way through the house to the kitchen.
It was full of people, some she’d met, but also several strangers.
“Lainey!” Andrew’s wife, Karen, smiled and motioned her over to where the woman was placing bacon-wrapped smoked sausages on a platter that already held a dish of barbecue sauce.
“What can I do to help?” Lainey asked as she reached back and grabbed her camera, then snapped a few photos. The typical women-in-the-kitchen scene compelled her to capture the moment.
“Take this platter outside? Guests are still arriving, but everyone should be here soon,” Karen said, quickly arranging the last of the appetizers, then lifting the platter and holding it out to Lainey.
Lainey replaced the lens cap, and shifted the camera behind her back and then picked up the platter. On her way out the patio door, she tossed her jacket over the back of a dining chair. Outside, the backyard was full of tables, folding chairs, and people. That morning, she’d helped Karen and Margot and their daughters with the decorations while Andrew and the other men set up the tables and chairs and hauled in grills.
Voices blended in a happy cacophony as Lainey looked around to see people laughing, smiling, and embracing asthough they hadn’t seen each other in years, instead of earlier in the day at the parade or rodeo.
After she placed the platter on the table, Lainey took her camera in hand and snapped several photos. The back of her neck tingled, and she froze in place before slowly turning to her left. There, speaking to Andrew like they were old friends, was the cowboy she’d bumped into earlier.
Standing next to him was the red-haired younger man she’d heard the announcer say was his son. She zoomed in on the two of them and took a few photos, then hurried back into the kitchen. Maybe she’d stay in the house and avoid Jason Price.
She wasn’t sure she could handle another interaction with the handsome cowboy.
Chapter Two
From the corner of his eye, Jason Price watched the woman who’d backed into him at the rodeo hustle out of the house toward the heavily-laden food table, with the lacy layers of her burgundy skirt swishing around her legs. Her blonde hair waved over her shoulders and looked like liquid gold when the sunlight caught in the thick tresses. Rosy apple cheeks, blueberry-blue eyes, and a sweet smile were enough to make a man pause to study her, but she was strikingly beautiful.
It had been a long, long while since a woman had caught Jason’s interest enough to give her not only a second but a third glance. Jason wasn’t one given to superficial thoughts or feelings, but something about the photographer had kindled a yearning in him to know her better.
Before he could stop himself, he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Shaun, be a good kid and go find your ancient father a glass of tea or lemonade.”
“Ancient, is it?” Shaun asked with a quirked eyebrow. “Wasn’t it just this morning you won our bet of doing more sit-ups than me?”
Jason shrugged. “I think you let me win.”
“No way, Dad. You earned the win, even though you didn’t have Cooper and Billy tormenting you with each sit-up. It’s slightly distracting to have someone poking a feather in your ear while someone else bumps a remote-controlled car into your side the whole time,” Shaun said and then grinned wickedly. “Which reminds me, I owe those two clowns a little payback later. I’ll get you that drink, Dad, but don’t get any ideas about me waiting on you hand and foot all evening.”
“I would never,” Jason said, feigning affront before giving Shaun a nudge toward the beverage table. As soon as his son was out of earshot, Jason stepped closer to Andrew and lowered his voice. “Who is that woman? The blonde in the burgundy dress.”
Andrew looked toward the house just as the intriguing female returned inside with a camera bouncing against her back.
“Who? The photographer?” Andrew offered Jason a speculative glance. “Is that who you’re asking about?”
Jason nodded. “Yep. Who is she? What’s she doing here?”
“She’s doing a coffee table book about women of the West, and Ma is one of her chosen subjects. When she found out about Ma being the grand marshal, she arranged to be here for the parade to take photos. She’s been staying at the house for a week, but she’s leaving in the morning for her next photo shoot.”
“And her name?” Jason asked, feeling slightly irritated and frustrated for no sane reason. A few completely irrational thoughts about why he didn’t want to think about the photographer leaving popped around in his mind, though.
“Lainey Collins. She’s nice, and good at what she does. Ma gave her an official stamp of approval, which you know isn’t something to be taken lightly.”
