My True Cowboy. Shelley Galloway

more than friends with his brother a few months ago, but he blew me off.”

      “Brother?”

      “Trent. He’s a legit rodeo star.”

      “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

      “So, don’t you think that Cal Riddell is something else?”

      It was a struggle to not offer her opinion. “He was something, all right.”

      “My goodness, but he’s a fine looking man. Six foot three, black hair, blue-gray eyes …” Betsy fanned the air for emphasis. “And the way he talks. I swear, his voice is so deep. And that slow drawl, it’s enough to curl your toes.”

      Susan had noticed that drawl.

      “And, well, he’s rich as sin, too.”

      Though she was telling herself she couldn’t care less about that man, Susan couldn’t help but catch hold of Betsy’s latest tidbit. “He’s rich?”

      “Hell, yes! And we’re not talking rich like he-can-take-a-vacation-whenever-he-wants rich. We’re talking rich enough to-buy-himself-a-plane-and-pilot rich.” After a pause, Betsy said softly, “He’s rich enough to support a wife in the way she’d like to be accustomed to.”

      Though she was vaguely disturbed by Betsy’s words, Susan elected to ignore them. “Hmm,” she said simply. “I really had no idea.”

      “You still don’t. Sue, he’s Cal Riddell, as in the Riddell Ranch.”

      Betsy said that as if he was a celebrity or something. Well, she, for one, had never heard of the Riddells or their infamous ranch.

      Come to think of it, she wouldn’t shed a tear if she never heard of the place again. Choosing her words carefully, Susan said, “Actually … I wasn’t all that impressed with him.”

      “Get out.”

      “I’m serious. We shared a table in the cafeteria at the hospital when Hank was getting tests done. The whole time, rich Cal Riddell couldn’t have been ruder.”

      “That’s not like him. Usually, he hardly ever talks. It’s part of his charm, you know.”

      Susan wished he’d been a little more quietly charming. Though … “He was a little nicer when our paths crossed at the hospital today.”

      “See?”

      “He was nice until he insulted me.”

      “Uh-oh.”

      Though Susan realized she was ranting, she just kept on going. “Uh-oh is right. He’s the biggest jerk alive. I hope I never see him again.”

      “You ought to get those eyes of yours cleaned. He’s a catch and a half.”

      “Not for me. I certainly don’t want to catch him. I just want to stay out of his way.”

      “I bet you’ll feel differently about him once y’all dance. I’d feel all kinds of things for him if I pressed up against him real close.”

      Susan couldn’t imagine the man she’d met unbend enough to dance at all. She couldn’t even imagine trying to have a conversation with him in a bar! Nor did she ever want to try.

      So, if she couldn’t imagine any of that … why could she definitely imagine what it would feel like to be pressed up close to him?

      She cleared her throat. “Unfortunately, I won’t be dancing with anyone tonight. But you be sure and tell me how the party is.”

      Betsy looked her over and frowned. “Susan, you need to put yourself out there if you want to meet anyone.”

      “I know. And I have been meeting people. I’ve met a lot of people at work, you know.”

      “Doctors and old people don’t count.”

      Before Susan could dispute that, Betsy picked up her empty bottle and stood. “Well, I need to go shower and get cute.” Shaking her spiky red hair, she grinned. “This magic don’t happen on its own, you know.”

      “Have fun, Betsy.”

      With a little wave, her friend turned and disappeared through the hedge.

      And left Susan thinking about a long Friday night with nothing to do but sit and stew. And to wonder what it would be like to actually have money to spend on clubs and parties.

      And to wonder how her life might have been different if Hank’s dad had decided to stay.