Chelsea held out her hand to Dusty. “Chelsea Beaumont McCray, of the Kennebunkport Beaumonts.”
“Oh God,” Zach said under his breath.
“Charmed,” Dusty said.
Zach’s smile widened. Oh, his little darlin’ knew how to deal with Chelsea.
“That’s a lovely outfit,” Chelsea cooed to Dusty.
Damn. Dusty was sensitive about her appearance tonight. Why couldn’t Chelsea leave well enough alone?
“Thank you,” Dusty said sweetly. “You look splendid as well. I’ve never seen a lovelier shade of pink.”
“It’s Vera Wang,” Chelsea said. “And it’s not pink, it’s bashful.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bashful. The color?”
“Oh. Of course.” Dusty put her hand on Zach’s forearm.
A slight touch from her, and his loins ignited.
“It was lovely to meet you both, but I’m extremely tired. I worked with Zach’s bull all day
and—”
“What?” Dallas said, his tone incredulous. “You let her near that brute, Zach?”
“I was with her the whole time.”
“You don’t have the sense God gave a goose. If Pa were here—”
“Well, he’s not. And you ain’t him, Dallas. The big brother routine got old twenty years ago.”
“I wasn’t in any danger,” Dusty said. “I’m good with bulls.”
Chelsea eeked out a small disgusted sound. “I can’t bear the beasts myself. They’re ugly. And they smell.”
“Only if they’re not properly cared for,” Dusty said.
“Pooh,” Chelsea said. “You couldn’t pay me to go near one of them.”
“I’m betting if the price were right, you’d hang with the bulls,” Zach said.
Dallas looked at him sternly but said nothing.
Chelsea laughed it off. “Maybe. If the price were the new suede outfit I saw today. Only four thousand three fifty.”
Dusty visibly cringed.
“But tomorrow the vendor’s having a sale,” Chelsea continued. “Twenty-eight percent off in honor of his daughter’s twenty-eighth birthday. So like a good girl, I’ll wait until then to have it.”
“I’m sure three thousand one thirty two is a fair price,” Dusty said.
“Where’d that number come from?” Chelsea asked.
“It’s twenty-eight percent off of your original price.”