The salesman raised his hand in greeting. “Hey, Zach. I figured I’d see you here eventually.”
“How’ve you been, Jay?”
“Can’t complain.”
“This is Dusty,” Zach said. “Dusty, Jay Ray.”
“Jay Ray?”
“Born and bred,” Jay said. “What can I do for you all this evening?”
“We need to set her up with some bull riding spurs.”
“Zach, no…”
“My treat, darlin’.”
“But I don’t like to use spurs with bulls. How’s an animal supposed to trust me if I hurt him?”
Jay chuckled as Zach pulled Dusty out of the small alcove.
“I suppose you don’t wear a helmet, either.”
“Sometimes, when it’s a new bull, but I prefer not to. I think the animal knows if I’m trying to protect myself from him.”
Zach shook his head. This woman was a handful. “Chaps?”
“I have them.”
“Glove?”
“A Tiffany glove. A gift from Papa before he died.”
“Vest?”
“Of course. I’m not a complete half-wit.”
“Mouth guard?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like the way it feels in the back of my mouth. Makes me want to gag.”
“Jesus.” Zach raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to insist on the spurs, darlin’. Not that you’ll need ’em, cause you’re not gonna ride Diablo anyway.”
“But I suppose if I do convince you, I have to have the spurs.”
“You got it.”
“I don’t want to spend so much money.”
“I told you, my treat.”
“I can’t let you do that. We barely know each other.”
“Heck, we’ve known each other for twenty-plus years. I’ve got body hair I haven’t known as long.”
Dusty’s laugh rang out like jingling bells.
“Now there’s a cheery sound. Let me buy you the gift, darlin’.”