All Jacked Up (Rough Riders #8)(64)

“If I say yes?” she asked coyly.


“Then I’ll have raunchy phone sex with you.”


“If I say no?”


“Then I’ll still have raunchy phone sex with you.”


“Like I said, GQ, you’re easy.” A total lie. Jack Donohue was the least easy man she’d ever known.


In the hour they wandered, several shopkeepers came out to greet them. She counted three hair salons and two barbershops. One large drugstore. Two furniture stores. Three diner-type restaurants. Assorted boutiques, featuring purses, costume jewelry and shoes. Those fancy, exclusive shops made her break out in hives.


Keely wasn’t a “shopper” any more than she was a girly-girl. She bought her clothes at western stores or outlet malls. She didn’t spend time agonizing over what to wear, although she had a weakness for funky cowgirl boots. She managed to slather on makeup most days, but not in excess.


Her one indulgence was lilac-scented lotion and oil from Sky Blue, a company her cousin Kade’s wife, Skylar, owned that specialized in naturally made beauty products. But she probably wouldn’t have bothered if the store wasn’t right below her apartment.


With Jack gone in meetings all day tomorrow, hopefully she’d have time to explore on her own.


A horrible thought struck her. What if the wives of the committee members had planned her day for her? What would she do?


Buck up. This is important to Jack.


“Keely? What’s wrong?”


She smiled at him. “Nothing. We should go back to the hotel so I can freshen up before dinner.”


They parted ways in the hotel lobby. Probably so the front desk could report she and Jack weren’t sneaking in a quick f*ck before happy hour. Right. No cocktail hour in Milford.


Keely hung up her clothes and checked out the room. Tall windows covered in chintz and velvet draperies. Fussy furniture with spindly legs and loud fabrics. The headboard was wood gilded with gold.


Fancy place. Too fancy for her taste. She preferred a relaxed, casual atmosphere where she wasn’t afraid to put her boots on the coffee table.


Maybe she should take a nap. They’d stumbled out of bed at the butt crack of dawn to drive to Rapid City. After hopping a plane to Salt Lake City, they made the two-hour trek to Milford via rental car. She yawned and closed her eyes.


Her cell phone buzzing on the mattress woke her. “Yeah?”


“I’m out of the country for three freakin’ weeks and I come back to find out you’re engaged? To Jack Donohue of all people? Jesus. What the f*ck, Keels?”


“I missed you too, Ramona.”


“Sorry. It just caught me by surprise. I got the text message with the engagement picture and the engagement party invite from Aunt Carolyn. But no squealing phone call from you. No gossipy tidbits from our other relatives about you being knocked up… They all expressed the same WTF reaction I had. So tell me K, is it true?”


“Yes. It was fast.” She offered the condensed version of her courtship with Jack.


“Do you love him?”


“Yeah, I do.” At least that much wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t any easier to admit. She’d done the one thing he’d warned her about and she’d feared: she’d fallen in love with him.


Ramona didn’t say much. “Are you at home right now with the new stud of your life?”


“No. Jack has a client thing in Utah and I’m with him. Where were you gone to for three weeks?”



“Hell,” Ramona said with no sarcasm. “I fired my travel coordinator the second I had cell service in the States. Trust me, you do not want to hear me whine about the Orient.” She paused. “You okay? For being wildly in luurrve and all, you don’t sound like your chipper self.”


“I’m nervous about meeting Jack’s clients. I do not want to say or do anything to f*ck it up.”


“You’ll be fine. You’re charming, funny and you can drink any man under the table. At least you used to, but damn, you’ve been dull as dirt the last few years, cuz.”


“Ramona!”


“Kidding. Sheesh. Should I build up your confidence with serious stuff since your sense of humor has vanished?”


“Yes, please.”


“Let’s start with the obvious. What are you wearing tonight?”


Keely rolled her eyes. Ramona lived the code “clothes make the woman” and truly believed all that fashionista crap. “I’m wearing my emerald moleskin skirt, brown boots with the orange and green butterflies, a slim-fitting, button-up shirt in dark tan and a brown bolero jacket.”


“Good. How many events do you have to dress for?”


“One more tomorrow night and that’s formal.”


“What else did you pack?”


Keely described her engagement dress.


“It sounds perfect, but showcase your personality by adding a splash of color. Look for a funky scarf in those shops you’re hitting tomorrow.”


Funky. Right. Milford, Utah didn’t like funky.