Last Chance Beauty Queen (Last Chance #3)(17)
Author: Hope Ramsay

In contrast, the dress that had made Caroline infamous as an eighteen-year-old might just humiliate her twelve years later. Her boobs, always just a little too large for her comfort, were poured into that tight bodice, and the girls were not all that happy about it. One or both of them looked like they might make an escape at any moment.

She wanted to throw a first-class, Watermelon Queen hissy fit. But her head was hammering so hard that any loud noise might cause it to split wide open. Her stomach was queasy, too, and she wondered if she could manage to hang on to the float for the duration of the five-mile parade without hurling. She decided that if she had to hurl, she would do it on the dress, thereby getting her out of this ridiculous situation.

At least her hair was good.

Not only could Jane sing like an angel, but the woman had taken Caroline’s unruly mop of hair and transformed it into something amazing. She wore a crown of woven pink and green ribbons that cascaded down her back. Instead of trying to blow-dry the curl out of her hair, Jane had coaxed it into a mane of wavy darkness that made her look like something out of one of Haley’s fairytale books.

And—good news—she could use the long hair in Lady Godiva fashion if the seams on her dress gave way or she encountered a sudden wardrobe malfunction.

“I declare, Rocky, all my life I’ve wanted to have a bustline like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone noticed.”

“Momma, I think the entire county of Allenberg is going to notice. And for the record, I don’t want people to notice my boobs. They could notice my eyes, or my hair, or something else. To be honest, I don’t want to be noticed at all. I’d like to be sitting along the parade route wearing sunglasses and a big floppy hat.”

Momma chuckled. “Well, I’m sure your soulmate will notice all of you, sweetie, including your bustline.”

“Honestly, Momma, I didn’t feel comfortable with this low neckline when I was eighteen. I feel even less comfortable now. And to think my boss is going to see me dressed like this.”

Not to mention Hugh deBracy, whose opinion she suddenly valued as much as Senator Warren’s.

And valuing his opinion of her wardrobe was simply insane. Hugh was an English baron—an aristocrat. He was so far out of her league that it didn’t matter what she wore. In fact, in a strange sort of way, she should be thankful she was dressed like a fluffy watermelon today. Hugh would take one look at this dress and know the truth about her. There would be no more waltzing with Hugh when he saw the real Rocky Rhodes.

“Think of all the eligible bachelors out there,” Momma said, breaking into her thoughts, as if Momma knew that Caroline was only thinking about one particular bachelor—the one she needed to treat professionally.

“Right, Momma,” she said unenthusiastically.

“Oh, come on, honey, the parade route will be lined with hardworking, regular Joes. One of them is going to be your true love. You know when Miriam starts with her forecasts, love is usually right around the corner.” She gave Caroline a little hug. “Now won’t that be fun?”

“No. Especially not if the only thing that attracts this regular Joe is my bustline.” She wanted to be valued for more than that. She wanted to be taken seriously.

And, well, back in her twisted female mind, she wanted to be taken seriously by the one guy she’d recently met who was most definitely not the salt of the earth and a regular Joe. Just thinking about the warmth of Hugh deBracy’s hands on her made her all quivery inside.

“Sirocco Caroline Rhodes, you listen up now,” Momma said, putting her hands on her hips. “Love is never anything to sneer at. It’s likely to knock you right off your feet when you’re least expecting it, and you have the advantage because Miriam has told you that love is coming your way. The kind of true love that Miriam predicts is a blessing. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Caroline gave her bodice another upward tug.

Clay called from the front room. He’d brought his minivan to take them over to the parade staging area. It was time to go. She followed Momma out to Clay’s car feeling exposed, sour, and grumpy.

Three hours later, Caroline’s head had finally stopped throbbing. Her feet, on the other hand, were killing her.

What had possessed her to wear these high heels? She had been standing all that time on the seventy-fifth anniversary float, holding on to a metal bar that was all that passed for safety on this moving contraption. Her arches were throbbing, and the small of her back was in agony.

Of course, if she’d been one of the older ladies, they would have given her a throne to sit in. Miz Miriam was sitting up on the highest level of the float, which looked like an elongated wedding cake with big numerals 7 and 5 at its top.

Caroline, being one of the younger ex-queens, had to stand on the lowest level of the float and wave and smile and endure an endless stream of salacious comments from the rednecks and good ol’ boys lining the parade route. Her station was on the front side of the float so at least she could see where they were going.

This vantage point also gave her a horse’s ass view of the Last Chance Gang, an equestrian group composed mostly of middle-school kids, including her niece, Lizzy. The kids wore white Stetsons and rode ponies. A couple of the older kids did some trick riding and lasso twirling. The kids were cute. But one of their adult supervisors turned out to be Dash Randall himself, looking surprisingly fit for a man who had undergone baseball-career-ending knee surgery a year ago.

Dash was getting his share of attention from the good ol’ girls and their mothers. To be honest, Dash had impressed a lot of kids, too, since he was doing some seriously cool tricks with a lasso. But then Dash had always been a show-off.

Thank goodness it was almost over. The float saluting seventy-five years of Watermelon Queens turned onto Court Street in Allenberg, heading toward the square where the county courthouse and reviewing stand were located.

Caroline tugged up her bodice and fixed her beauty queen smile on her face. Up ahead, the dignitaries had gathered under the bunting-draped plywood of the reviewing stand. Senator Warren sat in the first row surrounded by U.S. and state representatives. A row of local dignitaries occupied the seats behind him. Caroline finally found Hugh, seated in the last row, wearing an impeccably tailored light gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a narrow light blue tie. He sat right next to Cissy Warren, who was dressed, as always, in the most expensive designer fashion money could buy. Hugh and Cissy looked good together—like refugees from Ascot, slumming today with the simple folk.

Her heart gave a little lurch in her chest, and her skin flushed hot with a wave of emotion she had trouble pinpointing. She was embarrassed to have her boss see her wearing this dress. And she was angry at herself for the stupid things she’d done last night. And she was consumed by a very unhealthy fascination with Lord Woolham.

Caroline was so busy trying to figure out these feelings, that she didn’t see disaster coming in the form of Dash Randall, cowboy extraordinaire.

Just as the seventy-fifth anniversary float arrived at the reviewing stand, Dash turned his painted pony and aimed his lasso at Caroline. One minute she was tottering on her inappropriate shoes, and the next she was roped and tied.

Then Dash literally swept her off her feet and right over the edge of the float. Good thing the cowboy wannabe was right there on his horse grinning like some kind of movie star as she toppled into his waiting arms. He eased her landing right into his lap.

Dash turned his pony in a direction opposite to the flow of the parade. A little tightening of his thighs, and his horse responded by trotting off through the ranks of the Davis High marching band and past the float bearing the current Watermelon Queen and her court.

It wasn’t until she spied the Allenberg Fire Department, bringing up the rear of the parade, that Caroline managed to catch her breath and her senses enough for fear to set in.

She’d never liked horses much, and the feeling of losing control scared the crap out of her.

“Put me down,” she said, but her voice came out in a rasp. “You know I don’t like horses.”

“I know, but bear with me. I won’t let you fall, and this is all for a good cause.”

Good cause? What good cause? All she could think about was the fleeting glimpse she’d gotten of Senator Warren’s face as she tumbled into Dash’s arm. Oh God. She was never going to live this down. Her chance at that promotion had just evaporated.

“Dash, what in the Sam Hill are you doing?”

“Getting Bubba to move on.”

“What?”

Dash looked down at her from under his ten-gallon hat. “Remember? Yesterday you said we needed to hit Bubba upside the head so he’d move on with his life. This is it. See, the way I figure is that I match Aunt Mim’s prediction for you just about as good as anyone else in town. I’m about as regular a guy as you can get, and I actually earn my living working with my hands. So I figured that if I roped and tied you in front of everyone, folks would naturally start gossiping. We just have to play along for a while. We’ll pretend to be falling madly in love, and in the meantime, we’ll figure ways to introduce Bubba to some other single ladies. I figure we got several who might work. There’s Jenny Carpenter and your friend, Rachel.”

“Rachel? Are you kidding? I wouldn’t wish Bubba on Rachel even if he were the last man on earth.” Caroline started to hyperventilate.

“Calm down now. I got you, and I’m real good with horses. And we don’t have to try to match up Bubba and Rachel. We can concentrate on Jenny Carpenter. I’m sure the church ladies would love to get Jenny married off to someone other than Bill Ellis, her being a Methodist and all.”

“You’re insane. And you’ve just made me a laughingstock. My boss and everyone in Allenberg County just saw you rope and tie me. Bubba is going to be furious with you. And the church ladies are going to try to match us up as soulmates from now until the rapture happens.”

“Yeah, I thought it was a pretty brilliant plan on my part. Honey, we’re now officially the talk of the town.”

Chapter 10

Hugh shook off Cissy Warren’s clingy hand and stood up in order to get a better view of Dash making off with Caroline. “Good God, are they going to let him get away with that?”

Hugh’s fists balled up of their own accord. Where were Caroline’s brothers now? He looked around, searching for a means of exit. If he could appropriate one of those horses, he could—

No, wait. That would be crazy. He was allergic to horses, and he was not very good in the saddle—not any kind of match for Dash Randall with his rope tricks. He felt suddenly quite queasy. He’d been looking forward to seeing Caroline all morning. This was not what he’d had in mind.

“Don’t worry about her,” Cissy said. “That cowboy making off with her is Dash Randall. He used to catch for the Houston Astros. He’s worth millions. Besides, you have to admire the man’s direct approach.”

No, Hugh most definitely didn’t admire Dash’s approach. In Hugh’s estimation, lassoing a former Watermelon Queen off a parade float was rather lowbrow.