Courageous

While she was agonizing over her lack of accessories, there was a knock at the front door. She went to answer it when she remembered that her father had gone out to the barn to check on the new calf and its mother, Bossie.

When she opened the door, she got a shock. It was one of Jason Pendleton’s cowboys with a garment bag over his shoulder.

He grinned. “Got something for you, Miss Peg,” he said, offering it. “Mrs. Pendleton said you’d need a coat to go with that dress, so she’s loaning you one of hers. She said it might be just a little long, but she thinks it will do nicely.”

Peg was almost in tears. “Oh, it’s so kind of her!”

The cowboy, an elderly sort, smiled. “You sure do look pretty.”

She flushed. “Thank you!” She took the bag and opened it. The coat was black, long, with a mink collar. Real mink. She stroked it with breathless delight. “Please tell Mrs. Pendleton that I’ll take great care of it. And thank her very much for me!”

“She said you’re welcome. You have a good time tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, beaming at him.

He grinned and went back to the ranch pickup he’d driven over in.

Peg went back inside and tried on the coat, with its fine silky lining. She looked at herself in the mirror and couldn’t believe that the pretty woman there was actually plain Peg. She just shook her head.

“I feel like Cinderella,” she whispered. “Just like her!”

Only she was hoping against hope that her carriage wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin and that her gorgeous clothing wouldn’t melt into rags at the stroke of midnight.

3

Grange came home to dress about a half hour before it was time to leave. Peg stayed in her bedroom. She didn’t want him to see her until they were ready to go. She heard the shower running upstairs and sat down to watch the news on her small television while she waited for him. The news was too depressing, so she turned over to a documentary on the history channel instead. It was about the development of weapons, and how the spear of Paleo-hunters turned into the bow because of the speed of whitetail deer—which was the anthropologists’ take on the innovation.

She was so engrossed in it that she forgot the time. A tap on her door startled her. She glanced at the clock and grimaced as she turned off the television and ran to answer the door.

She opened it, flushed and pretty with breathlessness. Grange, in a dark suit with a bow tie, stared at her with flattering speechlessness.

“Will I do?” she asked hopefully.

“Honey, you’ll more than do,” he said in a soft, deep tone which, combined with the unexpected endearment, almost burst her heart with joy. He smiled. “Ready to go?”

“Yes!” She grabbed her coat and started to slip it on.

Grange got behind her and helped, letting her slide her arms into the silky fabric underlay of the rich wool coat with its mink collar.

“Mrs. Pendleton sent it down,” she said. “I guess she knew that I wouldn’t have a coat fancy enough to go with this dress.”

He didn’t let go. His big hands contracted on her shoulders.” That was nice of her.”

“Yes. She’s a sweet person.”

“So are you.” As he spoke, his thumbs eased the coat back. His head bent and he kissed her, tenderly, right on her neck where it joined her shoulder. He felt her shiver, heard her shocked intake of breath. “You taste like candy,” he whispered, and his lips opened on the soft, warm flesh.

She leaned her head back, her breathing unsteady, her eyes closed. His hands moved to her waist. He turned her, ever so gently, and his mouth traveled to her throat, past the pearls, down, slowly, down to the very edge of the fabric over her breasts, and moved there in a sensual caress that shocked a defenseless little moan from her throat.

“I could pull the bodice down,” he whispered, his head spinning, “and slide my lips over your breasts until I found that sweet hardness hiding there.”

She shuddered. She arched back, helpless, hopeful, breathless with anticipation as he began to move the softly shaped fabric out of his way. She felt his mouth open, felt the warm moistness of it pressing against the swell of her breast. She moaned. Her body trembled as she arched again, pleading for relief from the tension that grew to unbearable need in seconds.

“What the hell,” he ground out.

His hand came up and found the zipper, eased it down. He pulled the fabric away and looked at the rosy, hard tips of her pretty breasts for just an instant before his mouth went down and covered one of them.

She cried out helplessly, which only made him more hungry. His mouth opened on the sweet flesh, his tongue traced the nipple, dragging against it to produce sensations Peg had never felt in her life.

Her nails bit into the fine fabric of his suit jacket. She was spinning like a top, burning, aching with desire that she’d never even dreamed of before this.

Somewhere a truck engine sounded loud even in the heated silence of Peg’s room. She heard a door slam.

“It’s … Dad!” she exclaimed hoarsely.

He barely heard her. He lifted his head, his eyes riveted to the stiff nipple. He cupped her breast and bent his head again to explore the soft flesh with his mouth. “Dad?” he whispered.

“Dad,” she managed to say, and moaned.

His hand contracted gently around her soft breast. “Damn.”

“Damn,” she echoed with a shaky laugh.

He lifted his head with a steadying, deep sigh. He held the bodice away from her breasts, smiling warmly at the faint red marks he’d left there in his passion. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

She flushed. Her body felt stiff and swollen. She wondered if his did, too.

With a rueful expression, he reached behind her and reluctantly zipped up the dress, hiding what he’d done to her. Fortunately no marks showed over the bodice.

She looked at him with awe.

He touched her soft mouth with his forefinger. It wasn’t quite steady. “We’d better go,” he said huskily.

She nodded.

He went out of the room and she came out behind him, retrieving the small evening bag the designer had also loaned her from her dresser on the way.

They were in the hall on the way to the front door when Ed came in. He looked from one of them to the other. They looked oddly flushed, but quite presentable.

“What a pair,” he mused, smiling. “You look like socialites.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She grinned.

Grange chuckled. “Well, like impostor socialites, maybe. None of us working stiffs are likely to be mistaken for the real thing.”

“I like us just the way we are,” Ed replied. “Have a great time.”

“We will,” Peg assured him. “See you later.”