The Cinderella Hoedown Read online

  “Will Price?” asked Kelly. “No frikkin’ way!”

  “In the flesh,” said Will. “You’re the last person I expected to see at this event.”

  Will took the opportunity to look over Kelly Dean from head to toe. A lot had changed over the years, but Kelly was still able to make the hot-blooded werebear get riled up. Will’s bear roared, as it had whenever Will had looked up his old high school crush. Flat pictures on the Internet were nothing compared to the sight of Kelly in the flesh. Her curves had filled out nicely since high school, her shape becoming more womanly, softer. The only thing missing was the tight shirts she’d worn. The clothing Kelly was wearing did her curves not an ounce of justice, but Will knew how to use his imagination. After all, it had served him well over the past few lonely years. His cock twitched at the thought of adding another curve to Kelly’s body, a curve filled with his kin. Will hushed the bear, telling him that by the end of the night, they’d have claimed the curvy cutie.

  “Says the bad boy harassing gals at the bar,” said Kelly, turning to scan over the crowd of people. “Looks like some people never change their ways.” She saw some of her old high school classmates in the audience, talking to the same people they’d never had the guts to date back then…as if pink drinks and fancy dresses, or cufflinks and collared shirts, would change anything. One thing that certainly hadn’t changed: other local gals not knowing how to handle their liquor. Two men and a girl were already leaving. The skinny man in a collared shirt seemed sober, but the woman was on the arm of a tall hunk who propped her up with one arm and held a cowboy hat with the other. That took one man off the market.

  “Says the girl who took two shots of whiskey before the event even started,” said Will. “Let me guess…you don’t really want to be here, and you want to calm your nerves?”

  “How ever did you come to that conclusion?” asked Kelly sarcastically.

  “Well…did the shots calm down those nerves of yours?” asked Will.

  “Starting to,” admitted Kelly.

  “Then let’s blow this joint and have ourselves a little class reunion,” said Will, whispering the suggestion in Kelly’s ear like a lover talking dirty in bed.

  That was another thing about Will that had changed. The sarcastic burnout had always had a rapport with her, but now, his dirty suggestion didn’t repulse her. It sent a chill down her spine that she couldn’t tell herself was from an overactive AC.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t order some froufrou girly drink, or you’d have a face full of cranberry juice and vodka right now,” said Kelly. She knew she shouldn’t be playing Will’s game, but something was enticing about the prospect of taming the bad boy from her high school past.

  Before Will could reply and potentially get Kelly in the back of his pickup, the sound of a triangle rang out through the restaurant as clearly as a bell during feeding time on the ranch.

  “Hello!” said Grandpa Scoville. “We’re going to need to get your attention now so we can get on with this ‘meat and greet.’”

  To the last phrase, Grandpa Scoville got a round of laughter.

  “We need to go over some guidelines for the event for those of you new to the event,” said Grandma Quiggly. “Which, given this is the first time we’re hosting it, is all of y’all. First things first: this is called ‘Fated Mate Speed Date’ for a reason. Even if you’re not a shifter, you need to be here looking for true love. This isn’t hookup central. This is a dating event for serious daters only.”

  “Hear that?” whispered Kelly. “Guess you’re going to have to leave, Will.”

  “Is that an invitation?” asked Will.

  “Ahem,” said Grandma Quiggly, shooting Kelly a look. “Secondly, this is called ‘Fated Mate Speed Date’ for a reason. This is a speed dating event. This means that when you hear the bell, it’s time to swap tables. If you made a real love connection, you can wait until after the event to explore it further. Tonight is straight night, and this week, we’re having the men move tables when the bells ring. Leave your plates, as you’ll get new ones at each table, gents. It’s part of the restaurant health code. Ladies, your cardio comes next week, so just keep your butts in those seats and those smiles on your faces.”

  “Last of all, you must stay until the end to make a connection,” said Grandpa Scoville. “At the end of the night, you’ll mark each person you dined with as a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No.’ We’ll exchange the contact info of the matching pairs, and of course, for a fee…Grandma Quiggly’s matchmaking consulting agency can help you come up with the perfect way to ask the other person out.”

  “Without further ado, please check your number, and seat yourself at the table that you were assigned,” said Grandma Quiggly. “Let the dates begin!”

  “Wanna trade cards?” asked Will.

  “We would still be at different tables,” said Kelly. “How am I better than you at logic even after I’ve had two shots?”

  “Save the conversation for the tables, Kelly!” shouted Grandma Quiggly from across the room.

  Kelly sheepishly made her way to her assigned table and sat down. The Matchstick Grill was offering the same fare it usually served, albeit at a significantly discounted price for some reason. The restaurant usually served a fusion of Brazilian and Scandinavian cuisine, and tonight, the churrascaria-inspired restaurant was serving its standard meat on swords, but the waiters and waitresses were wearing standard restaurant staff uniforms rather than their usual Viking inspired costumes.

  Kelly waited for her date to show but, as people sat down at tables and the bar area cleared, she was the only person left at a table without a partner.

  “I’m going to have to start the timer now, dear,” said Grandma Quiggly apologetically, touching Kelly on the shoulder before moving to the other end of the room to ring her triangle and signal that the first round of ten minutes was starting.

  Kelly flagged down a waiter.

  “Keep the meat coming,” said Kelly. “That chair across from me may be empty, but I need my plate to be full.”

  “Got it,” said the waiter. Before she knew it, Kelly had the best cuts of meat on her plate. There was something to be said for playing the pathos card, especially when meat was involved. If one couldn’t play pathetic to get the best cuts of rare steak, then when could one play pathetic?

  Kelly heard the sound of arguing behind her and looked back. After all, dinner and a show was a classic pairing. At the sign-in table, where Grandpa Scoville had been turning away diners that weren’t there for the event, was a familiar looking man arguing with him. Where did Kelly know him from? He certainly hadn’t gone to high school with her, unlike the rakish Will who was (definitely not) turning on the charm at a table near hers, where he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but across from the bubbly blonde who was trying to make conversation with him. So how did Kelly know this guy?

  That’s when it hit her. She’d last seen that chiseled jawline in profile as the man had taken a very drunk girl out of the bar. She’d expected him to take the girl home, but apparently, there was more to the story than met the eye. Of course, that didn’t mean that Kelly couldn’t play dumb to hear whatever cockamamie excuse this hunk had come up with, straight from the horse’s mouth.

  The man held his hat in his hands and looked at Grandpa Scoville with a face that could melt the stoniest of hearts, and finally, Grandpa Scoville let the man into the restaurant…and he headed straight toward Kelly.

  Kelly turned back to her meat. Of course, the man was going to be assigned to her table! It was the only table without a diner. Had he seen her staring? She hoped not.

  “My apologies,” said a voice as deep and sweet as milk chocolate. “I don’t usually keep a lady waiting on me. I don’t fault you for starting without me.”

  “Fault me?” asked Kelly, putting her fork down to give the man the once over. The man was handsome, slightly older than her, probably closer to thirty than to twenty, and he was wearing clothing that tol
d her all she needed to know: he was a genuine cowboy. Was this the hot date that Grandma Quiggly had promised her? There was only one way to find out, and it was by giving this man a chance...even though, as far as first impressions had gone, he’d blown it.

  “If you don’t see me eating much meat tonight, it isn’t because I’m a vegetarian,” said the man. “It’s because I’ve managed to put my foot in my mouth and don’t think I can stuff much more in there.”

  “You know this is a dating event for serious daters, right?” asked Kelly.

  “Of course,” said Jeff. “Have I done something to make you think I’m after anything else?”

  “You did leave the event early with another girl,” said Kelly.

  “Because her twig of a friend, who wants to be her boyfriend, couldn’t carry her back out to their car,” said Jeff. “I drove her home and dropped her off with her parents then, dashed back as quickly as I could.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Kelly.

  “Look, you think if I was lying, I could’ve gotten past Grandpa Scoville?” asked Jeff. “That man’s craftier than a nursing home knitting club.”

  Kelly let herself laugh at that one.

  “A beautiful laugh from a beautiful woman,” said the man. “Isn’t it nice when things that belong together…end up together?”

  “Woah, I usually don’t let a man take me to emotional third base without first knowing his name,” said Kelly.

  “You’re right,” said the man. “I must’ve spent too much time on the ranch. I’m forgetting my manners, and with a face like yours, I reckon I’ll forget my own name by the end of this meal, so I best spit it out now. I’m Jeff Bennet.” He extended a hand, and that’s when Kelly saw it: bear shifter marks. All shifters had marks, and the marks on Jeff’s hand were identical to the marks seen on Savina’s husband’s palms, although different in color. While Savina’s husband, Mace, a polar bear shifter, had black paw marks on his hand, Jeff’s bear paw marks were brown.

  “I’m Kelly, Kelly Dean,” said Kelly, taking Jeff’s hand and shaking it. “A pleasure to meet you.” She looked over Jeff. Now that she was ready to give him a chance, she was ready to give him a real look over, and Jeff, well, he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t bad at all. He had light brown hair and matching eyes that seemed to have flecks of hazel when the light hit them a certain way, but best of all, he seemed to always have a smile ready to burst out of the corners of his mouth. That’s what Kelly needed: a man who could make her smile.

  “The pleasure’s truly all mine,” said Jeff, giving Kelly’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “In a town as small as this, I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner. Where on Earth has this town been hiding you?”

  Jeff looked at Kelly with hungry eyes that flashed an amber light from within. He’d come to the event upon being convinced to by the pleasant woman running the speed dating event, but he hadn’t expected to have anything more than his stomach’s hunger sated. Now, a hunger he hadn’t known in some time was rising. It was a hunger to take every part of the curvy goddess in front of him into his bedroom and to savor every part of her. The primal lust was unlike any he’d felt before, stronger, harder to resist. His bear told him to follow his instincts and begin the hunt, as surely, this desire was a sign the woman in front of him was fated to meet him, and he, fated to mate her.

  “In my bedroom,” said Kelly.

  “Your…bedroom?” asked Jeff tactfully.

  “Oh, yeah, so, it’s silly,” said Kelly, flustered. “But…I just graduated college a few months ago and I’m job hunting. That’s why I’m in my room a lot. I’m hunting for jobs online, but so far, no bites.”

  “Hey, that doesn’t sound so silly to me,” said Jeff.

  “Really?” asked Kelly. “What do you do?”

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said I spend too much time on the ranch,” said Jeff. “I’m a cowboy, working over at the McCarthy Dude Ranch.”

  “A cowboy who works at a dude ranch? No frikkin’ way,” said Kelly. “That’s so cool!”

  “I love it,” said Jeff. “I love everything about it. I love waking up in the morning, smelling that fresh Texas air, and eating a sack lunch in a meadow surrounded by wildflowers. It’s the best job for a man like me.”

  “A man like…you?” asked Kelly, confused.

  “Shifter,” said Jeff. “Don’t tell me you didn’t spot the marks.” Jeff turned his hands over.

  “I’m not a shifter,” admitted Kelly.

  “So you don’t get why the job is ideal for me?” asked Jeff.

  “Exactly,” said Kelly sheepishly.

  “My animal…it always wants to be out,” said Jeff. “And my human side, well…there’s a lot of times it wants to let the bear take control, but, if you haven’t noticed, there’s not a whole lot of jobs for bears, with paws and claws, to do. What am I going to do, work in a circus balancing on a ball? The next best thing is working outdoors, and my people, well, we’re Texans, through and through. Working on a ranch lets me work with my hands, and the boss is hands-off, so I get a lot of time to run into those mountains and woods on the edge of town and let my bear roam free.”

  “Do you do that often?” asked Kelly

  “I was planning on doing it tonight,” said Jeff. “And I’m real glad I didn’t.”

  Before Kelly could reply, the familiar sound of the triangle sounded.

  “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Kelly Dean,” said Jeff, getting up and reluctantly moving on to the next table.

  The servers came around and served more food during the shuffle. Kelly put in an order for a beer and by the time she looked back at the seat in front of her, it was filled. This time, it wasn’t a cowboy filling the seat: it was a man with a collared suit and blazer, a man who absolutely, totally, should not have been Kelly’s type (who should have been less her type than annoying Will was), but who managed to nearly make her jaw drop. The man had piercing green eyes, brown hair so deep it was nearly black, and a pocket square. Where the heck had she ever seen a pocket square in Fallowedirt proper before (as functions at the Mesquite Manor were an outlier and should not be counted)?

  “King. Tom King,” said the man.

  Tom looked at the woman in front of him. The clothing she was in was splattered with paint but was practical, and apparently, she had a story to tell about her day. It’d be a refreshing change from the majority of guests who came to the dude ranch and weren’t willing to get their hands dirty. Kelly’s hands weren’t the only thing Tom wanted to get dirty, though. A lust for her had started brewing, and the bruin inside Tom roared, the bear urging Tom to pursue the big, beautiful, sexy woman in front of him…and claim her as his mate by the end of the night.

  “Dean. Kelly Dean,” said Kelly. “Acquaintance. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She could’ve sworn she’d seen Tom’s eyes glow green…but it must’ve been a trick of the light.

  Tom laughed. “I’m guessing the whole cosmopolitan act won’t work on you?”

  “Trust me,” said Kelly. “I’m a country gal, through and through, so unless you’re secretly a cowboy…”

  “And if I was?” asked Tom. “Then what?”

  “Then I’d say that the city boy playing cowboy is more of a cliché than crystal vases full of roses in romantic comedies,” said Kelly.

  “Then call me a cliché, because that’s exactly what I am,” said Tom.

  “You’re awful handsome for a crystal vase full of roses,” teased Kelly.

  “You’re awful sassy for a country gal,” said Tom. “You sure you don’t have city slicker blood in you?”

  “Well, I never!” said Kelly, feigning offense. “So, Tom, what are you, really?”

  “Part doctor, part cowboy, all shifter,” said Tom, putting his silverware down to show his palms. His palms had the same marks as Jeff’s hands…and the same calluses.

  “How does being part doctor, part cowboy work?” asked Kelly.

  “The McCarthy Dude
Ranch was looking for more farm hands and a doctor. With me, they get a two-for-one,” said Tom. “You aren’t into the Southern dandy look?”

  “No frikkin’ way,” said Kelly.

  “Then excuse me if I do this,” said Tom. He slid his sports coat off and took out his cufflinks before pushing up his sleeves to his elbow, rolling the cuffs of the sleeves with a surgical precision before he went to work on the meat, using the knife like a scalpel and making quick, precise cuts to preserve the marbling of the meat. Kelly was impressed. He was part cowboy after all.

  “Why the monkey suit?” asked Kelly.

  “Because I wasn’t sure what the restaurant’s dress code was,” said Tom.

  “So it wasn’t to potentially impress the cutest girls Fallowedirt has to offer?” asked Kelly sarcastically.

  “Well, it didn’t impress you, so it’s trash,” said Tom.

  “Come on,” said Kelly. “Just eat your meat.”

  “I’m not kidding,” said Tom. “And hey, for a gal who doesn’t like clichés…what is more cliché than the curvy country girl not realizing that she’s one Hell of a catch?”

  “Is that your way of telling me to move past the clichés?” asked Kelly.

  “Hey, if I can’t be a cliché, neither can you,” said Tom. “Tell me, what is it you do, Kelly?”

  “That’s the magic question,” said Kelly. “I just graduated, so…”

  “Ah, off-limits question?” asked Tom.

  “No, no, just…not interesting,” said Kelly.

  “Try me,” said Tom. “I just got finished with a day full of treating things too disgusting to talk about at a table like this with a gal like you. I could use a breath of fresh country air.”

  “Right now, I’m helping organize the Fallowedirt Hoedown,” said Kelly. “It’s going to be a big street fair for the whole town and vendors to participate in. We’re doing it to raise money for a new Veteran’s Association Center. It’s part of a big fundraising spree the city is organizing for this summer. Each project raises funds for a special community need. The best part is, the Scoville family will match every dollar we raise, so the more people I can attract to the hoedown, the more money we’ll make for the veterans. I’ve been doing a lot of painting of these wooden set pieces that are going to be used to give the hoedown some flavor, which is why I look like…this.” Kelly motioned over her body.