Bootscootin' Blahniks Read Online Free Page A

the riches their success afforded them.
    Roxy could have talked forever about the saloon’s fabulous dance floor but after hearing the name of Zayne’s dog, she couldn’t keep her giggles at bay any longer and laughed out loud. “Studley Pete. Now there’s a great name. So does he take after his master?”
    After her tease, Roxy swallowed. She wasn’t quite sure where her tenacity came from. Bantering with him just felt nice — kind of natural really.
    “Of course Studley Pete is named in my image,” Zayne said, moving the straw around his cocky grin. “So which one is most like you, Dipstick or Darling?”
    “Well done, Asshole,” Roxy said unable to suppress the smile she attempted to bite back between her lips and teeth.
    Zayne inhaled with gusto then exhaled with the same mighty brawn. “Ahhhh. That’s much better. Thank you for the compliment. Now back to the saloon and fixin’ your boot hang up.”
    “I know you have great boots. I took a walk through your gift corral, which isn’t bad by the way,” Roxy said, thinking how terrific her new buckle designs would look inside the fancy display cases underneath the premium lighting system. “But there’s no way I can afford a pair right now. Thanks anyway.”
    “Who said anything about you buying a pair?” Zayne took one arm off the steering wheel so Dipstick could wiggle his way onto his lap. “This one isn’t the sick one is it?”
    “Not that I know of,” Roxy said, knowing she’d just die if Dipstick decided otherwise. “But I don’t seem to have luck on my side today. So proceed at your own risk, Cowboy.”
    “I’m not so sure about that, Princess. I’m feeling quite fortunate over the day’s events thus far.”
    Catching Keith Urban’s voice playing the air waves, Zayne cranked up the volume on the radio, apparently liking Keith’s take on a new day as much as Roxy did. Another plus on his Darwinian-worthiness meter.
    Slipping into the comfort of the song’s rhythm, Roxy tapped her foot to the beat while Zayne’s thumbs kept perfect time on the steering wheel.
    “What do you say I hook you up with a pair of boots?” Zayne inquired during an instrumental portion of the song.
    “I don’t accept charity,” Roxy said, realizing as soon as the snotty reply left her mouth that she’d answered way too quickly, forsaking politeness — considering his kind offer — with her Vaughn-style, knee-jerk, defensive bravado.
    She sighed deeper-than-soul-level, unable to block out the irony that she herself had given to charity for years — without her parent’s knowledge. As if she could ever spend the enormous wads of cash they lavished on her to buy-off her love and happiness. And now, well, now she’d been asked to accept that same kind of help from a stranger.
    “I’m soooo sorry how that sounded. I do really appreciate your gesture. But as soon as I have a couple days of good sales at the boutique, I’ll be able to afford a pair,” Roxy said, trying to explain her unintentional cattiness and wishing she could kick herself for sometimes coming off as quite the bitch when trying to just be gutsy girl strong.
    “Whatever makes you happy. But just so you know, I didn’t say anything about
giving
you the boots,” Zayne said, taking the straw out of his mouth and twirling it between his fingers.
    Roxy looked at him, more than taking his bait, although momentarily distracted by Dipstick who was trying his best to capture the straw. “So what do I have to do to land these boots?”
    “It’s quite simple really,” Zayne taunted, giving Roxy a flirty come-get-me look she couldn’t ignore. “Come to the Neon Cowboy and dance with me.”
    At his invitation, Roxy’s stomach turned gigantic flip-flops. The idea of her body hugged tight against his Wranglers, and her arms interlocked with his, had her already floating across his dance floor. “Oh, well, that doesn’t sound like charity to me. I might be interested in that