Cowboys are Forever by Whitley Hope

Author:Whitley, Hope [Whitley, Hope]
Language: zho
Format: epub
Publisher: Singing River Press
Published: 2015-01-21T08:00:00+00:00

Marielle stood in front of the open closet of her bedroom, trying to decide what to wear to the dance tonight. Her hand touched the garments hanging there one by one, occasionally stopping to pull a dress out for closer inspection. This midnight blue velvet? No, she decided. Too formal. The black lace? She shook her head. Too sophisticated. Her eyes fell on a sheath of shimmery amber silk. This one, maybe? She considered it briefly, then decided against it. Too citified.

Trey had told her that although the men didn’t bother with tuxedos or black tie, they did wear their dress western clothes. And the women, he’d said, went all out. Most of the women lived on ranches and didn’t get too many opportunities to wear their party finery. So they looked forward to this dance and others like it as a chance to dress up. Marielle hadn’t packed much in the way of evening wear when she’d moved out here. Now, looking at the few dresses hanging in her closet and dismissing them for one reason or another, she wished she had a wider selection. For some reason, it was important to her that she look her best tonight.

Not, she told herself sternly for the umpteenth time, that it had anything to do with her escort. Of course not. Her heart beat faster, just thinking about him … his lean maleness, his slow, sexy smile, his bedroom eyes—okay, she ruefully acknowledged. It was her escort who sparked the desire to show herself to her best advantage tonight. Female vanity, she told herself. What normal, red-blooded woman wouldn’t want to look her best for a hunk like Trey?

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and gasped. Six-thirty! Trey would be here to pick her up in fifteen minutes and she hadn’t even made up her mind what to wear. She’d spent longer than usual on her hair and makeup, vacillating between wearing her hair up or down, straight or curled, and so on. Now, she thought, she’d better quit agonizing over what to wear and put something on or she wouldn’t even be ready when he got here.

She hastily rummaged through her closet again. Wait, what was that? A zippered garment bag hung at the back of the small closet. Her brows furrowed and she tried to recall what it held. Then she remembered and pulled it out hurriedly, unzipping the bag even as she went to remove it from the closet rod. She laughed out loud in delight as the dress was revealed.

She’d bought it last year on sale and never worn it, saving it for special occasions. Emerald green, the bodice of stretchy velvet had a high neck, long tight sleeves, and keyhole back. The drop-waist skirt with rows of filmy chiffon flounces over a wide, floating velvet skirt was perfect for dancing, she decided gleefully. Absolutely perfect. Not too formal, not too frou-frou—just right. She said a silent thanks to the impulse that had caused her to dash into a little boutique and buy it when she’d seen it in the window.

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