Convenient Cowgirl Bride

Tucker’s expression was full of sympathy. “I doubt it. But you’ll have to be.”

She laughed at that. “I haven’t had a date in two years.” Heading to the dressing room, she left Tucker standing there with his mouth hanging open.

Four hours later, they walked out of Leather and Lace with bags and boxes and more clothes and pairs of boots than Savannah had owned in her entire life. Tucker had convinced her to change from her jeans and T into a dress that reminded her a little of traditional Choctaw garb. Embroidery, ribbons, a full skirt, all in natural colors that Tucker insisted set off her golden-brown skin and dark hair. And new boots. Expensive new boots that fit her feet like gloves. The boot maker in L and L had spent an hour measuring, drawing and discussing leathers, heels, colors and stitching designs. Tucker refused to let her see the bill but she’d seen the price tags. Who in their right mind dropped almost twenty thousand dollars on clothes? Oh, yeah. Chase Barron and the women he was used to dating, for sure, but not plain ol’ Savannah Wolfe.

The last person she expected to see was Chase leaning up against Tucker’s sleek Mercedes SUV, looking all fashion-model perfect in his tailored suit, starched shirt and designer tie. The slow grin lighting up his face did all sorts of things to her bits and pieces—which she needed to ignore because she was not letting Chase get under her skirts. Skin. She meant skin. And he was just slick enough that he could charm his way right there if she gave him any room at all.

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