Blame It On Texas. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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Guffaws all around. The room reverberated with excitement. Lexie enjoyed seeing Lewis in his element. It gave her a sense of what kind of father he would be one day. “You’ve got ninety minutes until the pizza arrives,” Lewis said, directing the eager group to their stations. He returned to Lexie’s side and eased her toward a gaming station, too.
“THANKS FOR HOSTING this event, as always,” the club sponsor, Josephine Holdsworth, told Lewis as the three of them walked toward the lobby. The computer science teacher at LHS was pretty and single and—if Lexie’s instincts were correct—as romantically interested in the school organization’s most famous benefactor as she was.
“My pleasure,” Lewis replied, showing no evidence that he knew the pert redhead had a giant-sized crush on him.
“And thank you for attending our meeting, too,” Josephine continued, regarding Lexie warmly. Josephine paused to shrug on her coat, before stepping out into the brisk autumn air. “I don’t think the students know what you do for a living, but I certainly do. The spread they did on your clients in In-Fashion Magazine last year was downright amazing.”
“Thanks,” Lexie said.
“I’d heard from some of the other faculty who grew up here, too, that you were from this area.” Josephine’s expression faltered slightly. She swallowed and completed her fact-finding mission. “But I had no idea you were dating Lewis.”
Lexie blushed, aware that if she let this misconception stand it would be all over Laramie in no time. “No. We’re not. I would never…” she stammered, wishing she had never agreed to let him employ her as his stylist. Then this wouldn’t be such a dilemma. She could let the rumors fly and just see where their obvious attraction to one another led. But she had a professional reputation to protect. Lexie gulped and forced herself to continue, “Lewis is a cl—”
“Friend,” Lewis interrupted, before she could finish the word. He stepped slightly in front of her. “Lexie and I are friends, Josephine.”
Josephine beamed. “Oh.” She fished in her handbag for her car keys. “Well, in that case, perhaps Lexie would consider making an appearance at the LHS Career Night on Tuesday evening, too? The students would love to hear about your profession.”
Lexie smiled. “I’d be glad to participate.”
“Great! We’ll see you both then,” she announced cheerfully.
Lewis watched as Josephine exited, then turned back to Lexie. “Sorry I had to cut you off like that.”
Lexie studied the guilty expression on his handsome face. She planted her boots firmly on the marble lobby floor. “Why did you?”
He moved toward her, not stopping until they stood toe to toe. “I didn’t want word getting out that I had hired you to help me.”
She propped her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “Don’t you think they’re going to figure it out when you start looking a whole lot different after spending concentrated time with me?”
Lewis’s probing glance made a leisurely tour of her body before returning to her eyes. “Well, maybe not so much if people thought we were dating,” he offered in an offhand tone.
“Right,” Lexie said dryly, savvy enough to realize when someone was embarrassed by what she did for a living. “Then they would just think you were whipped. That’d be sooo much better.”
Lewis caught her by the arms and turned her to face him. “If word got out we were dating, would that be so bad?”
She ignored the warmth of his fingers that penetrated the layers of her clothing. “Yes. You’re a client,” she reminded him, delicately extricating herself from his grip.
“But people here don’t know that,” he insisted.
“But I do,” Lexie retorted stubbornly. “And I don’t date clients, Lewis.”
He paused to come up with a new strategy. “Then we’ll just have to tell people we’re spending time together because we’re friends.”
“You’d rather do that than let word get out you hired a stylist to help you change your image?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes.” Lewis’s jaw was set.
Her heart pounding, Lexie fell silent as she studied the half-hidden apology in his eyes. “You’re that ashamed of what I’m trying to do for you?” she asked, even as she struggled to ignore her reaction to his nearness.
Lewis released a frustrated breath. “Is that a trick question?” He peered at her from behind his lenses.
Temper flaring, Lexie rummaged through her shoulder bag for her keys. Thank heavens her stepmother and father had loaned her a ranch pickup to drive while she was in town, so she didn’t have to rely on Lewis McCabe for her transportation home. “It’s an honest inquiry,” she replied in a voice laced with steel. She paused to look up at him and let their glances mesh, sorry now she had kissed him at all. “And yours was an honest answer.” She held the keys so tight they pinched her palm. Chin held high, she marched past him, toward the exit.
Lewis fixed her with an exasperated look. “Where are you going?”
She barreled past. “None of your concern.”
“Lexie. Come on.”
She ignored the entreaty in his tone and tossed him a withering look over her shoulder as she sped through the double glass doors. Bad enough she had doubts about her chosen vocation—she didn’t need to hear them from him! “Find yourself another stylist to help you, Lewis,” she snapped. “I’m out of here.”
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