Against Her Odds: when dedication meets desire Read Free Page A

that’s fair enough,” Valerie
admitted, slightly pleased by his choice. “But how does a cowboy know about
“eclectic” decorating? I wouldn’t imagine that it’s a big deal in your line of
work.”
    “This cowboy listened to his mama,” Cason
said seriously, even though she saw a sparkle in his eyes. “She was a
frustrated would-be interior designer, always changing something. Half the time
me and the old man weren’t sure we were in the right house when we came in from
the field, but it always looked nice. Then we got to hear about it at the
dinner table.”
    Val listened to the way his voice softened
when he talked about his mother and felt her heart go all mushy. It had been a
while since she’d liked a guy so much right away. If her lecture didn’t scare
him off, she had a feeling that they would have a lot of fun together.
     
    “Does she still decorate?” Val asked.
    “Sort of. My parents were older when they
had me. They actually thought that they wouldn’t be able to have kids at all.
Mama was in her forties when I came along, so they’re in their seventies now.
They both live in Glistening Springs Retirement Home now. Their choice,” he
hurried to say so that she didn’t think he was a heartless jerk. He had fought
the decision tooth and nail, but his parents had overridden him in the end.
They knew he didn't have the time to manage their care and the ranch and they
were both adamant about entering the nursing home. “Not mine.”
    “I did a Christmas story there a few months
ago,” Val said, to put his mind at ease. She could tell that he wasn’t the type
of man to just ship his folks off when they got to be a burden. “It’s the
nicest home in the state.”
    Cason nodded and shoved his hands down into
his pockets. The conversation was drifting from his normal first date
repertoire. He glanced around for inspiration.
    “Is that yarn?” he asked suddenly,
surprised to see what looked like a half-finished blanket amid a colorful pile
of yarn. “You knit ?” It didn’t fit his picture of polished, elegant
Valarie and that made her even sexier in his eyes.
    Val felt a sudden flush of heat rise from
the collar of her shirt. “I crochet,” she admitted.
    “Crochet?”
    That was clearly something his mother
didn’t do, by the confusion that spread over his face and the way he’d
pronounced the word as if it were totally foreign.
    “Yes,” she said, walking over to the basket
and picking up her afghan. “You can make most of the same stuff, but crochet
has creepier tools.” She extracted the hook and showed it to him. “Doesn’t this
look like something a dentist would threaten you with in your nightmares?”
    “I’d have to say that it does,” Cason
admitted. “You’re a scary woman, Blondie.”
    “And don’t you forget it,” she said,
dropping the hook back on top of the afghan and looking up at him with a
sparkle in her brown eyes.
    “Is that your way of saying that we’d
better get on out of here and get something to eat?” he asked, casually looping
his arm over her shoulders.
    “Yep,” she said, leaning against him
briefly.
    Normally she wasn’t the touchy feely type,
at least not so soon, but she liked the strength in his tall body. She also
loved how good he looked in his dark jeans and the long sleeved chambray shirt
that he clearly considered dress clothes.
    “Well, I don’t mind hurrying,” Cason said
as they walked down to his truck. “You look so good in that dress that I can’t
wait for people to see me with you.”
    She smacked his arm lightly even though she
knew that she was blushing again. She had decided to wear a dress that Becky
had made her buy a few months ago. The wrap dress fell to nearly the knee, so
that wasn’t the problem. The problem, in Val’s opinion anyway, was the pattern.
It was so...eye catching.
    She had spent her entire career in neutral
grays. It was better to err on the side of serious when you were a woman in
journalism.