"It's yours," Townsend said. One eyebrow rose. "For a price."

I felt the earth move under my feet, but this time it wasn't due to a tipping toilet.

Sold to the cowgirl with the terrified grin.

Pay the man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

I'd soaked, shaved, buffed, loufahed, and moisturized. I'd shampooed, deep-conditioned, and detangled. I'd decalloused, touched up the nails, and lotioned up from head to toe. I'd donned comfy shorts and a tank top with hot pink lettering that read, "Still plays with horses."

I was ready to pay the piper. Er...the videographer. I walked into the living room, my legs doing a jitterbug number. I skipped over to the couch to hide the quivering leg thing. I dropped to the sofa beside Townsend.

"Hey," I said, breathless and hating the fact that he knew why.

"Hey," he said. "Nice...uh, T-shirt. Does Tressa want to come out and play?" He winked.

"Sorry. I only bring out the toys on the second date," I said to hide my nervousness.

"Date? Is that what this is? A date?"

I shook my head. "I thought-well, you know-with the auditorium and all-that this was...yeah, a date."

"You mean our first date."

I frowned. I hadn't really stopped to think about it, but yeah, that's exactly what it was. Our first date. Our first friggin' date!

"What's put furrows in that forehead of yours?" Townsend asked and placed his thumb on my forehead to smooth away the wrinkles.

"Furrows? I have furrows?"

He nodded. "What's up? Why are they there?"

Hmm. Why did I have furrows?

Maybe it was because, in spite of knowing Rick Townsend for most of my life, we'd never been on a date. A real date. Oh, we'd hung out. He'd saved my cookies a time or two. (Or maybe three, but who's counting?) But we'd never done the dating thing. You know. A night out. Dinner. A movie. We'd never taken in a college game or a concert. We'd never gone to the mall or antiquing. We'd never gone horseback riding or hiking. Heck. We'd never really done the carryout pizza and a Blu-ray thing.

My forehead crinkled even more.

Maybe this was why I had creases in my forehead.

Could it be those creases were there because, despite never having had any of the traditional dating experiences, I'd ended up throwing caution to the wind (along with my skivvies) and shared my bootie-and the swashbuckler's bed-the last night of my gammy's wedding cruise? Did I have creases because this was all more than a little "cart before the horse" for this cowgirl's peace of mind?

Not to mention-dare I say it-a tad bit...s.l.u.tty?

Gulp.

Sure. Okay. I get that it's a new s.e.xual frontier out there. I understand that lots of people my age view s.e.x as a social and/or physiological activity, rather than an emotional one. I get it. Whatever works, I guess.

But me? I wasn't there yet. Maybe I never would be. I just couldn't see myself engaging in "recreational s.e.x." I still wanted it to mean something, to represent something special, something lasting, something more than a few drinks at a bar and off we go for a little mutual gratification.

I'd joked about my chubby Brit counterpart, but one thing was true. I did want something more extraordinary than mindless s.h.a.gging.

"We've never been a couple," I blurted.

Townsend's thumb stopped its soothing motion.

"What?"

"We've never done things as a couple. Not ever."

He seemed taken aback for a second and then grinned.

"I know some things we can do as a couple," he teased.

I reached up and took hold of his hand and held it, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Tressa?" He took hold of my chin and tilted my head back and looked into my eyes. "h.e.l.l. You're serious," he said.

Serious or...deranged? I wasn't quite sure which.

"It's just, how do we know we're even compatible if we don't spend time together, do things together? We don't live back in the days where mates were selected by an offspring's parents or by royal contract," I pointed out, thinking if I took a clinical approach, I might have a shot at convincing myself that I was on the right track here. "Dating is the contemporary method of a.s.sessing compatibility. Dating. As in spending time together. Doing things together. Going on dates together. You know. Being a couple."

"We are a couple."

I shook my head.

"No. We aren't a couple because we've never been a couple."

Townsend got that look in his eye. The one that said I'd lost him.

"You're gonna have to help me out here," he said, running a hand through his hair. Another "tell."

I searched for the right words.

"There's been 'Rick,'" I said, putting my left hand out, palm-up. "And there's been 'Tressa.'" I put my right hand out. "But," I brought my hands together, "there's never been a 'Rick and Tressa.' Do you see what I'm saying?"

Rick looked at my hands for an uncomfortable amount of time. He finally sighed.

"You're saying you want the whole enchilada," he said.

Yeah. I guess I was.

"Did that song Jax Whitver sang to you get you thinking about what you've missed out on?" he asked.

I frowned.

"What? No. Of course not!"

Or had it?

"Jax Whitver starts crooning about a courtship, and you realize you never had one. I get it."

That last ranger remark? Pure jealousy talking.

And it set my pulse to pitty-patterin'.

I shook my head. "I don't think that's it. Did you listen to those lyrics? The song might as well have been 'Bang, Bang.'"

No. I was pretty sure it had less to do with "Counterfeit Courtship" and more to do with not waking up one day to find out you and the guy next to you had never taken the time to make memories to build a life together on.

So why didn't I just say that? Why didn't I just come out and say those words?

Because we hadn't gotten to the point with each other where we felt comfortable saying whatever b.l.o.o.d.y well popped into our heads.

And why was that again?

Because we hadn't done our homework. We hadn't put the time and effort into our relationship required for you to be comfortable putting it all out there and being totally spontaneous and honest with each other-not screening everything you say through a "what will he/she think?" filter.

We hadn't laid the groundwork necessary to have the confidence that-no matter what-you can share your deepest, darkest, "you" and still be understood, accepted, and loved.

We simply hadn't put in the time.

"What are you thinking, Tressa?"

I was thinking we're not there yet. And I knew we weren't there yet because I couldn't speak up and tell him we weren't there yet.

Does, like, any of this make any sense at all?

"Tressa?" Rick asked.

"I want to do the homework," I blurted.

"Homework?"

"Couples' homework. Do you realize I don't even know what your favorite meal is? Or color. Or TV show. Or author. I have no clue if you're a morning person or a night person. If you are messy or a neatnik or in-between. Whether you like country, jazz, or pop the best. What movie you last saw. What kind of toothpaste you use." I shrugged. "I want to know these things. Couples are supposed to know these things."

"Like I said, you want the courtship."

"I want the relationship."

"You want the dating."

"I want the foundation."

He shook his head. "You know, in a million years I don't think I'll ever understand you," he said, "but, if I want to have that chance, I guess we'd better start now."

He took out his phone. A second later my phone was ringing. I frowned and picked it up.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Tressa? It's Rick."

"Oh, h.e.l.lo. How are you?"

"Good. Say, I was wondering. I can get my hands on a couple of tickets to an Iowa Cubs game next week. Would you like to go?"

"Why, that would be lovely, Rick."

"Great! It's a date! I'll be in touch with details. 'Bye, Tressa."

"Goodbye, Rick."

Throughout our little phone chat, we'd moved closer to each other. Now we were inches apart.

I tapped my forehead.

"See? No furrows."

Townsend laughed and brushed my hair back, replacing his fingers with his lips.

"Yep. Smooth as silk," he said, caressing my shoulders and arms and sending shivers down the length of my spanking clean body.

"I also used moisturizer on my cheeks," I said, putting a fingertip on one.

He followed my lead, switching his attention from my forehead to my cheek.

"And there." I pointed to my other cheek.

"Nice," he said and kissed my face. "Very nice."

"And I tried a new perfume. Right there." I exposed the right side of my neck. Soft kisses were my reward.

"How about there?" Rick said, and pulled my tank top down, following his hand with his mouth.

"Yeah. There, too," I managed.

Townsend pushed me back onto the sofa and locked his lips on mine, his hand slipping beneath my top and finding what felt like two very needy nipples.

I arched my back and opened my mouth.