“He was great, actually. I always thought things were good between us. How’s Dallas?”
“He’s a cowboy, like Zach.”
Angelina didn’t push, although Chelsea was obviously evading the question. One only had to look at Dallas to know he was a stud in bed. He was as good looking as Zach, only more rugged. If only he weren’t married—
She stopped that thought abruptly. Chelsea was her friend, after all. She cleared her throat. “So what can I do now?”
“What about Harper? He seems interested in her.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her at your party. Didn’t you notice?”
“Not really.”
“And he was with her when she rode the bull today. If you get him interested in her…”
“You want me to sell out my baby brother for a man?”
“Well”—Chelsea’s mouth curled into a smirk—“sometimes, when the stakes are high, one has to up the ante a little.”
“But Harper?” Angelina shook her head. She had been willing to spook a bull, but sacrifice her brother to some low-class rancher girl? Of course, Chelsea did have a point about the stakes. She wanted Zach McCray. And Harper could charm the pants off just about anyone.
“Exactly what do you have in mind?”
Chelsea winked at her. “Come on. Let’s go shopping. There’s a sale on shoes at Nordstrom.”
“And?”
“And my mind is always at its best when I’m trying on shoes.”
* * *
Dusty lay on her hospital bed. “I don’t want to see him.”
“I understand,” Harper said, standing next to the chair where Sam sat. “I just thought I should let you know he seemed downright determined to see you.”
“What’s the problem, Dust?” Sam asked. “You do owe him an explanation, don’t you think? You hijacked his bull and put him in the hospital.”
“I was perfectly fine. He didn’t need to come charging in like a knight in shining armor. I wasn’t some damsel in distress. I had Diablo under control.”
Sam clenched his fists together. “I still can’t believe you let her get on that bull, Bay.”
“She was on the bull by the time I got there. It would have been more dangerous for me to interfere.”
“You didn’t have to unlatch the gate.”
“I know.”
Dusty recognized the anger in Sam’s eyes, but none of this was Harper’s fault. “I made him, Sam.”
“Right. You had a gun to his head.”
“Your brother’s right, Dusty,” Harper said. “I never should have unlatched the gate. But—”
“No buts,” Sam said.
“You’re right. It was just something in her voice.”