Flirtin' with Disaster

~ Six months later…~

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Meredith Carlisle said as she clutched the door handle of Lacey Carrington’s Maserati convertible. The top was up and Meredith was relieved for that, because she didn’t want anyone to see her in the dimly lit parking lot.

Especially during her sudden freak-out.

Her palms were clammy and her breathing was ragged as she stared out the windshield of the car toward the back door of Tristan Laughton’s bar on Main Street. The establishment was the most frequented saloon in Wildfire, Texas—and tonight, it ought to be more packed than usual, since it was Meredith’s twenty-first birthday.

Half the county had been invited to help her celebrate, thanks to Lacey.

“This is a fabulous idea,” Lacey assured her from the driver’s seat. “One of my absolute best. And, hey—you wanted this, girlfriend!”

“Sure, sure…Six months ago when I was on the cusp of legal drinkin’ age,” she mumbled. “But tonight? Dressed like this…? Yeah…No. Not so much.”

Meredith’s pulse wouldn’t slow. It just kept hitching, notch after notch.

The nervous anxiety wasn’t solely related to her teetering on the verge of being the center of attention. Something Meredith typically avoided like the plague. It was also due to the extreme makeover Lacey had just performed on her. They’d been locked away all day at the gorgeous ranch house where Beverly Hills-transplant Lacey Carrington now resided with her hunky ex-rodeo-god-turned-devoted-fiancé, Chase Maverick.

Lacey owned the beauty boutique in town that Meredith worked at as Director of Social Media. Meredith also now lived above the shop in an adorable one-bedroom apartment she rented from Lacey. Her boss/landlord was Meredith’s absolute dearest friend—as such, Meredith had trusted Lacey to style her long brunette hair this evening with plump curls that were wildly entangled in purposeful disarray and accented with new, deep-auburn highlights.

Lacey had also expertly applied Meredith’s cosmetics for this momentous occasion, in neutral shades that significantly enhanced Meredith’s delicate facial features and tawny, almond-shaped eyes, fringed by glammed-to-the-max false lashes. A nice complement to the smoky eye effect, unhindered by the fact she’d ordered contact lenses so she didn’t have to wear her glasses tonight. The crimson lipstick Meredith wore was near-impossible to get used to—she had to continually remind herself not to nibble her lower lip as the panic besieged her, so it didn’t end up on her teeth.

Meredith didn’t do makeup as a rule. Well, no more than a simple coat of mascara and a dab of lip gloss.

Nor did she typically wear slinky dresses and high-heeled shoes. For this particular rite of passage, however, she’d boldly selected her favorite ensemble from Lacey’s closet—a halter-style black mini-dress paired with five-inch suede leopard-print platform stilettos.

The mini was currently concealed under a three-quarter-length coat that reached almost to her knees and was tied with a sash at her waist. Not only because it was mid-February and there was a chill in the air, but also because Meredith was terrified to show-off the chic outfit she’d borrowed.

Well, she’d done more than borrow it. She’d fully commandeered it, considering Lacey had volunteered to alter the dress to fit Meredith’s more petite stature.

Prompting Meredith to say, “I appreciate you givin’ up your clothing for me, Lacey, but I’m starting to think we took the hem up a bit too much.”

“It’s just right,” Lacey contended.

“What if I flash everyone when I sit down?”

“Cross your legs as you’re sitting.”

“A true art form,” she grumbled under her breath. Then said, “The material’s really tight around my boobs and waist. And it dips so damn low in the back. Every little inch of me is on display.”

Lacey laughed softly. “That’s sort of the point, Meredith.”

“I’m not sure I can go through with this.” She hadn’t even unlatched her seatbelt yet. Was firmly strapped in and ready to tell Lacey to start the engine back up and drive her far, far away.

“You are going to be sensational this evening,” Lacey insisted. “Jaws will hit the floor when everyone sees you and you’ll be the toast of the saloon. That Gregory Alexander you’ve been pining over forever and a day will have no choice but to take serious note. And eat his heart out over not having asked you out in all the years he’s known you. Tonight, Meredith, I swear that boy will walk barefoot across glass to get close to you.”

“So I can trip all over him in these shoes?”

“You’ve been practicing for weeks.”

“Practicin’ in theory and executin’ in reality are two very different concepts, Lacey.”

Nerves finally got the best of Meredith. Coiling her stomach and sending anxiety through her in waves that made her nauseous.

Damn it!

She’d wanted this! She’d been the one who’d planned her twenty-first birthday “coming out” party.

Not coming out in that way, mind you…

Well…Anything was possible at this point. Meredith had yet to discern where her true interests laid.

Granted, she was hung up on the ideal presented by Gregory Alexander.

Medium height, medium build, medium intellect, medium personality.

He was the stable, predictable sort. A high “S” on Tony Robbins’ DISC personality assessment. A “test” Meredith herself (a high “C,” who thrived on detailed charts, complex equations and diverse chemical interactions) had taken while trying to put a little context around her new life trajectory, following her unexpected—and highly explosive—ejection from an Ivy League school Science program.

A thoroughly humiliating and dejecting experience. But one that had unwittingly launched her into a completely different realm. A whole new professional scenario she’d been able to embrace because of Lacey’s inventive vision—and Lacey’s encouragement that Meredith seek a definition of what her “present” was and what her imminent “future” could be.

The present was tonight. A party at Tristan’s…in Meredith’s honor.

This evening…this debut of a new and improved—or rather, a sexier and more sophisticated—Meredith Carlisle…was her chance to shine.

Meredith, with her statistically thirsty, analytically obsessed mind, was supposed to make a dramatic shift toward the land of the fiery vivaciousness, life-of-the-party sort.

An admittedly GIANT leap for this particular womankind!

But it was what Meredith had convinced herself she wanted.

So she loosened her grip on the door handle.

She’d been clinging to it for how fucking long?

Five, ten, fifteen minutes?

Meredith had no idea.

She’d stalled out mentally. Had trapped herself too much in the past, in the image everyone in Wildfire, Texas had of her.

The smart, quirky, too-small-for-her-oversized-clothes-and-glasses, college dropout.

Fuck the past.

“I requested this makeover for a reason,” she reminded herself—and Lacey. “To make a point to the good people of Wildfire, whom I’ve known my entire life. No!” Her hand shot up, palm out, her newly manicured nails gleaming in the parking lot lighting filtering in through the windows. “To make a splash in Wildfire. That’s what my intention is.”

And with no further discussion or ado, she reached for the door handle once more. Jerked on it and exited the car.

Head held high. Confidence soaring. Excitement trilling along her spine and humming through her veins.

Sure, she still wore her coat, which concealed her miniscule dress.

She needed just a moment or two more of this exhilarating sense of liberation to help her prepare for a full “cover reveal.”

As Lacey joined her alongside the expensive Maserati, Meredith told her, “You figured out how to take your stand in a town you felt you didn’t fit into, Lacey. And you did a great job of that. Now—I have to reinvent myself in a town I’ve grown up in.”

“Not the same, and yet not at all dissimilar,” Lacey casually commented. “But just as you explained to me when I was struggling to make it in Wildfire, you have to commit to a path and see it through.”

“Exactly.”

Meredith reached for the sash at her waist.

She yanked the knot free and shoved the garment over her shoulders, baring them.

Thrusting the coat at Lacey, she said, “Hang onto this for me, please. I’m empowered at the moment. No telling what’s gonna happen in the next twenty minutes or two hours that might necessitate me coverin’ myself back up.”

“Only your self-perceived shortcomings will necessitate you covering up, Mere. And well…Screw those self-perceived shortcomings!” Lacey flashed her magnificent smile. “I’ll hold your coat, but only if you forget I have it.” She winked.

“You’re pushing my boundaries,” Meredith automatically informed her.

Ironically—since she’d just denoted the desire to break free of those limitations herself.

“This evening, Mere…” Lacey fiercely told her—infusing Meredith with her own verve, by virtue of Lacey’s enthusiasm and confidence—“You have no boundaries!”

She really was about to become a whole new Meredith Carlisle.

She started toward the entrance to Tristan’s bar with purpose.

Just as a tall, dark and devilish cowboy hopped out of the driver’s side of his Super-Duty truck, whipped off his black Stetson and tossed it onto the seat behind him before raking a hand through his midnight hair, making the thick strands stand a little on end, in the sexiest damn way.

Meredith’s gaze swept over his wide, powerful, fully ripped body—then connected with the most mesmerizing, slate-blue irises she’d ever seen.

He grinned.

Her breath caught.

Oh. My. God.

Miraculously, she didn’t fall right out of her skyscraping heels as she walked past the hunky, hotter-than-hell stranger.

Her pulse suddenly raced and there was a distinct tingle between her legs that made her gasp—and recall Lacey’s words.

No boundaries.

“Holy hell,” she muttered, once out of earshot—and as every single nerve ending within her ignited. Tonight’s bolder, more daring Meredith asked, “Who is that man—and how do I get him into my bed?”

Garrett Slater had climbed out of his truck just as Chase Maverick’s fiancée, Lacey Carrington, strutted across the parking lot. She was impossible to miss, with her long dark-auburn hair and mile-long legs. Next to her was a shorter version of heaven, with brunette curls and a tight, curvy body packed into a micro-dress that did everything to get the adrenaline pumping through Garrett’s veins.

She wore sexy leopard-print heels and had just the right sway to her hips.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Stop droolin’ over my fiancée,” Chase said as he joined him. He’d been in the passenger side of the truck. They’d just come from Chase’s ranch outside of town and Garrett was looking forward to kicking up some dust after a long day of assessing Chase’s new horses and his entire equestrian setup, including boarding, training and medical facilities.

“Don’t be a dick,” Garrett all-but growled. “I don’t roll that way, and you fucking know it. Lacey’s spoken for and that pretty much makes me blind to her.”

Well…to be fair, it was damn difficult to not notice Lacey Carrington. She was a striking woman with an eccentric flair, he’d quickly learned, when he’d met her earlier at the ranch. But Garrett was happy Chase had not only closed on the property he’d been vying for, but he’d also gotten the girl—who’d been competing for that land, herself. A woman Chase had clearly been willing to risk everything for, which he’d damn-near done when push had come to shove and Lacey had been on the verge of leaving Wildfire.

But it wasn’t on Lacey that Garrett’s gaze lingered.

Unfortunately for him, Chase clasped him on the shoulder and said, “The other one’s not to be in your purview, either, hotshot. She’s Lacey’s bestie and so very fucking off-limits to a guy like you.”

“A guy like me?” Garrett shot him a look.

“Yep. And she’s of the little sister variety to me,” he added with a pointed look.

Well, fuck my life.

That was the absolute worst invocation, because Garrett respected the sacred laws of friendship and that meant when a dude claimed someone was or was like their little sister…that made them taboo.

Thus, Chase didn’t really need to expound on this, but he apparently felt compelled to say, “Pretend you never saw Meredith Carlisle, hotshot. Let’s go drink.”

***

Meredith gripped the big bronze handle on the door and pulled it open with force.

Loud country and western music hit her ears from the band playing on the stage near the back of the establishment. This was her first time in Tristan’s bar and this was precisely what she’d hoped to find. Pool tables, a dance floor and—hell, yes! Half the damn county!

Well, maybe just half the damn town, but that was a stellar turnout unto itself, and she was ecstatic.

Her gaze scanned the immediate crowd.

And—my stars!—they all stared back at her.

Meredith’s heart launched into her throat as mouths gaped.

Her initial reaction was a What the fuck? It’s just me! expression.

But it wasn’t Just Meredith who’d strutted through that door, now was it?

Silence ensued for two, three, ten seconds—which actually felt like an eternity.

Then: “O…M…G…,” said Krista Holland after she’d picked her jaw up off the floor. “Good Lord, Meredith Carlisle—look at you!”

“You’ve gone off the rails, girlfriend!” exclaimed Nicolette Parks from beside Krista. “What took you so damn long to go wicked on us?”

The ladies laughed. Ratcheting Meredith’s inherent apprehension.

Until Krista added, “Seriously…you’re stunning!”

Meredith’s spirits soared. “Y’all think?”

Tears stung the backs of her eyes because she’d been so unbelievably stressed out over this makeover—and how everyone would respond to it.

“Jesus, Meredith,” commented Nicolette in astonishment. “You put the X in sex lookin’ like that! Gregory Alexander’s little head just might explode!”

“Oh, my God!” Meredith shrieked. Drawing even more attention. “It’s not like—”

“Chill, Mere,” Krista said with a hint of mischief in her soft tone. “We all know, alright? Nothin’ to get so uptight about. Just wander on over in his direction and see what pops up.” She wagged her sculpted blonde brows at her innuendo.

Nicolette nearly spewed wine. She had to cover her mouth and choke back a cough. Her eyes watered, but she managed to croak out, “’Bout time something got that boy’s juices flowin’.”

“He does lack interest in just about everythin’ but pool,” Krista sardonically replied.

And weren’t those words the absolute gospel?

Meredith Carlisle would know it.

Her gaze slid to the far side of the room where three pool tables were situated, all spoken for, of course. One by Gregory and his small group of buds.

“No time like the present,” Lacey whispered in her ear as she leaned in close. “Go get him, tigress.”

Heat burst on Meredith’s cheeks.

Meredith was much more on the kittenish side when it came to things of this nature.

But not tonight, right?

The whole point of dollin’ up and struttin’ in is to make a splash.

Remember?

As she waded through her mental stall-out, more people gathered around to ooh and aah over her.

A few “Holy shit, is that YOU, Meredith?” comments rattled her cage a bit.

Yet those sentiments were uttered in amazement, she realized.

And smiled.

Exhilaration suddenly raced through her. Empowering her once again.

The most provocative feeling flooded her veins. She couldn’t even describe it if she had the time—which she didn’t.

Another influx of “Happy birthday!” and “I barely recognize you!” remarks resonated over the Luke Bryan cover tune bouncing off the walls from the live band.

For a moment…she was lost in the enthusiasm.

The complete and insanely bizarre reality that these people—whom she’d known forever—were shocked and entranced by her.

By her!

Meredith Carlisle.

Hometown Girl/S.A.T. Queen/College Dropout/…???

That next label was yet to be defined.

Granted, her job at Lacey’s boutique provided sufficient validation of how she’d picked herself up and dusted herself off following her college expulsion.

But this evening wasn’t about Meredith’s professional career.

It was about her romantic evolution.

Rather, the potential for a romantic evolution.

With that in mind, Meredith shook off the last vestiges of insecurity brought on by shedding her safe and protective shell and her worry of tripping over herself (or flashing anyone), and simply basked in the moment of glory as her friends celebrated her more glamorous appearance.

Charged by the positive reaction and holding fast to that sense of liberation she’d begun experiencing in the parking lot, she broke free of the crowd around her…and marched toward the pool tables.

Toward Gregory Alexander.

Because this was her moment of truth.

Sure, the hunk in the parking lot had totally caught her eye—and her interest. But when Lacey had said, “Garrett Slater is his name and sinnin’ is his game—he’s a friend of Chase’s,” that had instantly told Meredith the newcomer to town wouldn’t give her more than a fleeting glance. And had probably only been humoring her when he’d grinned at her. Hell, the more honest and blatant reality was that he’d likely been smiling at Lacey, not Meredith.

Of course, he’d been smiling at Lacey and not Meredith.

Jesus, how could she have thought otherwise for even a second? His ripped muscles and gorgeous blue eyes had clearly scrambled her brain.

So now she was off to explore a possibility with a guy much more her speed, in the minor leagues along with her—as opposed to Mr. Hardbody, who was in the very rare league with the likes of Chase Maverick and Tristan Laughton.

Sooo massively out of her reach, it was actually comical she’d even gotten a rush over that brief encounter when they’d been outside.

She relegated those thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrated, instead, on her premediated mission.

“Hey, Gregory,” she greeted her former classmate as she approached, adding a little extra sway to her hips, as Lacey had taught her to do, over the past couple of weeks.

“Mere.” Gregory Alexander spared a quick look her way while he was bent over the table, lining up his shot.

His gaze flitted over her from head to toe. Quickly.

Much too quickly.

Good Lord, talk about fleeting glances!

Worse (yes, it actually could get worse than that!), he gave a weird sort of snort and a scrunch of his brows…and returned his full attention to his aim.

He made a minor adjustment and shifted from one booted foot to the other before he smacked the eight ball soundly with the cue ball…and won the game.

Not even deigning to lift his gaze from the triumphant shot to further acknowledge Meredith’s presence.

It was her jaw that hit the floor now. She was completely taken aback.

Gregory Alexander totally and thoroughly dismissed her!

What the fuck?

What happened to him eating his heart out and walking barefoot across glass to get to her?

Meredith’s previously soaring spirits immediately plummeted to somewhere around her knees. In that one defining moment—in that instant of him shunning her—Meredith suddenly realized her whole transformation had been predicated on this one person’s response to her new image.

And he’d fucking marginalized her like she was the most inconsequential person on the planet!

Adding insult to injury, he collected his bet from his opponent, gave Meredith one last, decidedly perplexed look, and headed to the door.

Headed. To. The. Fucking. Door!

Just like that!

After all the agonized minutes, days, years she’d obsessed over him.

After the extraordinary effort she’d put into her coming of age party!

After…

Every. Fucking. Thing…!

He was making the world’s hastiest and most nonchalant exit!

Meredith was indignant—or some other foreign sensation swelled so fast and furious within her that she couldn’t even process the overwhelming feelings at once.

But her feet didn’t falter.

In fact, before she could even register in her mind what her body was doing, Meredith was on the move, too.

She stalked after Gregory, traipsing across the dirt parking lot in her high heels.

Just as Gregory reached his economically correct Prius, Meredith called out, “Hey! What the fuck is your problem?”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Holy cow!

What the fuck was her problem?