She rolled her eyes. “I lived in Brooklyn. I can handle myself in Wyoming. And walking won’t be a problem. I’ve got the legs of a Russian weight lifter.” She slapped her bare thighs.
“That is not what I said.”
“What did you say?” she teased.
“I said they were strong. Muscled. You look like you run or bike or—”
Her groan cut him off as she dropped her head to her hands. “I was going for cute tonight. Just cute. Why can’t I even pull that off?”
“Are you kidding? You’re just fishing for compliments now. You’re really cute. The definition of cute. But your legs...your legs are sexy.”
She raised her head, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Making fun? You really aren’t very good at this flirting thing, are you?”
“No. But a guy in New York once called me corn-fed, then acted like it was a compliment.”
“I’m not a guy in New York.”
“You used to be!” she said, poking him in the chest as though she’d caught him in a lie.
“Okay, but I never felt at home there. I’m a country boy at heart. New York is just...where I was born.” Not quite true, but that was what it felt like. A place his family lived. A place he loved from afar and visited occasionally.
Gabe caught sight of the waitress approaching with another drink for Veronica and he shook his head. The woman shrugged and headed back toward the bar.
“I’m sorry,” Veronica said. “You called my legs sexy and I made it weird.” She snagged his beer before he could grab it. “This is why I don’t date. Look at me.”
She got one swig before Gabe took it back and finished it off. “Come on, Dear Veronica, let’s go.”
Even though she collapsed onto the table with laughter, she eventually nodded. “Okay. Let’s go to my place.”
“I didn’t mean...”
“Yeah, believe me, I know.” Veronica pushed to her feet. “See? Steady as a tree.”
In fact, she was swaying a little. If she was a tree, she was more a willow than an oak. “How many of these did you have?” he asked.
“One before the show. One during. Then...two more?”
“In the space of an hour?” Gabe reevaluated his options. “How far away do you live?”
“Only three blocks away. I’m centrally located.” That set off a bout of giggling that had Gabe smiling as he wrapped her arm around his.
“Are you okay in those heels?”
“Sure. I had to learn to walk in them in New York. You know how it is. Spike heels everywhere. I bet you loved that, didn’t you? Men love that.”
He looked down at her as he opened the door of the bar. She was smiling as she stepped into the night.
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” he finally said.
“Just be honest. I write an advice column. I know what guys like. You can’t scare me.”
“Okay, then. Women’s legs look amazing in heels. Your legs look amazing in heels. But nothing beats the sight of a woman in hiking boots on the trail ahead. I could watch that for hours.”
“And have?”
“Only with permission, of course.”