Riding Jamie (Montgomery Dreams #1)

Chapter Three

OAKLEY

“Oh, thank you so much!” I say with a wide smile, slipping my hands in the pockets of the dress and holding them out. “It has pockets!”

The woman’s pretty blue eyes crinkle at the corners as she chuckles and holds her hand out to me.

“I’m Alli,” she introduces. “I work for your uncle. I heard you’re going to be one of our new interns?”

I rush to pull one of my hands free, shaking hers excitedly. She’s taller than me, and her hair is curled into perfect beachy waves that drape over one of her shoulders. There’s an air of easy elegance about her, but the welcoming smile on her face makes it harder to be intimidated.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say. “I’m Oakley. I look forward to working with you!”

“And I you,” she says. “Mr. Branson told me he’s planning on having you head a branch for him in Montana one day. You’re in school, right?”

“NYU,” I tell her proudly. “I’ll be starting this semester.”

She nods approvingly and takes a sip of her drink, looking over me. I don’t quite feel like she’s judging me, more like she’s sizing me up. She seems happy enough with what she finds because the professional chill in her gaze thaws a bit, and she gives me a more genuine smile.

“Your uncle says you’re a good kid, and he doesn’t hand out praise lightly. Work hard, and I’ve got no doubt you’ll go far,” she says with a knowing grin. “And if you need anything at work, just let me know. I’d be happy to help out where I can.”

There’s an edge of competition in her gaze, but it’s not directed toward me. Maybe if I do well enough to actually get my own branch of the company started back home, she’d be willing to come work with me there. At the very least, I could use some guidance from someone who’s managed to find a good fit for herself in the industry.

“Thank you, Alli,” I say, my smile widening.

I don’t have time to say anything else before my attention is dragged away. I flinch back from the hand that’s suddenly in my hair, manicured fingers laden with rings twirling a lock of hair between them.

“Oh, darling, your hair is fabulous .”

I come face to face with an older woman who’s hanging off the arm of her husband, who looks about as bored as any human being can manage.

“Uh, thank you,” I say, stepping back with a strained smile. “My Aunt Kathy introduced me to her stylist last week.”

“Oh, Ziu has magic fingers.” She laughs, leaning heavily on her husband’s arm, wine threatening to slosh over the rim of her glass. “I’ve been going to him for years . You know, with your coloring, you should really think about lowlights. They’d make your eyes really pop.”

I smile and nod, laughing uncomfortably as I share a glance with Alli. She gives me the universal look of get out while you can , and I fully intend to listen.

“I’ll have to talk to him about it!” I agree, hoping my voice is suitably chirpy and not as frazzled as I feel. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with a friend of mine. It was lovely to meet you.”

She lets me go with a pat on my arm and a wobbly smile, her attention already turning to Alli.

I step away and scan the room for any familiar face. I’m not used to mingling, not like this, and the throng of people and the chatter of voices is quickly becoming claustrophobic. This just really isn’t my scene, and I have no clue how to relate to these people. My eyes catch on the bar set up on the other end of the expansive balcony, and I almost breathe an audible sigh of relief at the idea of a place to relax.

I can probably whine my way into a glass or two of something alcoholic if I ask Aunt Kathy just right, but I already have a headache brewing at the base of my skull. Fruit punch is definitely the safer option.

And, since it’s in a fancy crystal self-serve bowl, I don’t have to talk to anyone in order to get it.

I pour myself a cup, taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear my head a bit. Names and faces and social niceties are spinning behind my eyes. I would kill for a quiet corner to hide in, even just for a few minutes. My room would be preferable, actually, but there’s no way I’ll make it all the way inside and up the stairs without being spotted, and I don’t want to worry my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Ricky.

“Looking for somewhere to hide?” a warm, soft voice says from beside me.

I jump slightly and whirl to face the guy properly. It takes a few seconds of me blinking stupidly at him to get any words out.

“I—what?” I manage, hoping I sound more confused than annoyed.

Not that I’m not annoyed, mind you—I really do just want a minute to myself—but it won’t do to upset one of my aunt’s friends. Not that he looks old enough to be one of her friends…

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh, raising his hands innocently. “You just look overwhelmed. Figured we were in the same boat. I’ve been looking for a plant to hide behind since I got here, to be honest.”

I’m a little surprised by how easily I laugh at that, but it’s easy enough to blame that on being wrapped up in pleasantries. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way my brain is insistently noticing that he’s maybe, sort of, a little attractive. In an opposite-of-Jamie kind of way.

Whatever. It’s not like it matters.

The guy’s just making conversation. That’s what you’re supposed to do at parties , I remind myself.

“No, no.” I wave him off with a laugh. “You just surprised me. I didn’t see you standing there, and then you were talking, and I…I’m not used to this many people. If you find a plant, would you be willing to share?”

His smile is sweet, and his laugh is quiet, even as he reaches out to pat a hand over my shoulder in joking reassurance.

“God, if only there was one,” he says, grinning.

He’s a little shorter than average, and he’s blond, and everything about him seems soft. His palm is smooth, no calluses across his fingertips when he takes his hand away before the touch on my shoulder lingers too long to be appropriate. He’s nothing like Jamie, all tall and rugged and loud.

I almost cringe at my own thoughts, forcefully shoving them to the back of my mind and doing my best to focus on the conversation.

The way the guy’s long lashes brush against his cheekbones when he blinks is helping.

Or maybe it’s not because as soon as I notice how pretty his eyes are, my mind is conjuring up memories of the way Jamie looks at me. Looked at me.

God, I’m a wreck, aren’t I?

“Yeah,” I say, probably a little too loudly, trying to distract myself from my own thoughts. “This isn’t really the scene I’m used to.”

He raises his glass—also full of punch, I notice—in cheers, laughing softly.

“Yeah, the city can be a lot to get used to,” he agrees. “Give it some time, though. You’ll do fine. I’m Shane, by the way, since I so rudely forgot to introduce myself.”

“Oakley,” I introduce, reaching out to take his hand in my own.

Yeah, no calluses there. It’s kind of an odd feeling because most guys on the ranch have calluses.

Before either Shane or I have a chance to say anything else, those blue eyes shift to something behind me, and Shane straightens up immediately. He looks confident, if a little nervous, and I turn to see what caught his attention only to come face-to-face with my uncle.

“Mr. Branson!” Shane greets from behind me.

“Oh, I see you two have met already,” he crows, obviously pleased as he tucks me beneath his shoulder in a single-armed hug. “That makes my job easy, then. Oakley, Shane here is my other intern, so you two will be working closely together this year.”

I glance back at Shane, surprised, and he beams at me proudly. “And Shane, you already know all about Oakley,” my uncle continues.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I gasp, turning back to Uncle Ricky with a mocking glare.

He just grins at me, his eyes twinkling with both pride and amusement. His bushy brows shift when he winks teasingly at me, and his beard twitches in time with the laugh he lets loose.

“He brags about you,” Shane stage-whispers, grinning widely at me. “A lot .”

As much as the idea of him talking about me is embarrassing—and as much as I hope the entire office doesn’t have some idea of me as a useless kid who only got this position because I’m Ricky’s niece—it’s kind of nice knowing that I won’t be doing it all alone. And Shane seems nice enough.

“Only as much as you deserve,” Ricky corrects him. Before he has time to say much more, we hear my aunt’s voice calling him over, and he pulls me closer to squeeze me in a tighter hug for just a moment. “You two relax, have fun, get to know each other. I’ll be back to bother you when I can weasel my way out of conversation.”

I chuckle as I watch him dash off to tuck his arm around my aunt’s waist, slipping into the role of the perfectly buttoned-up-socialite husband without a second of hesitation.

“Well,” I say, turning back to Shane with a grin, “I’m glad I won’t be fumbling my way through all this alone. Have you been interning at Branson for long?”

He shakes his head and takes a sip of his punch before answering me, glancing back at Ricky.

“This is my first year, too, actually,” he tells me, his eyes shifting down toward his feet even as he grins proudly. “I didn’t expect him to take me on, but I’m really excited to get a start. I’m going to NYU for business, and I really want to get my foot in the door with him.”

“Oh, I’m going to NYU, too,” I say, glad for some common ground.

“Well, if I’m lucky, maybe we’ll have some classes together,” he chuckles.

I find myself laughing again, easy and casual. It still feels weird, knowing that I’m really in a new place and making new friends, but it’s less jarring than I expected it to be. He keeps the conversation going seamlessly even when my own thoughts wander, and I realize that the feeling of claustrophobia has passed a bit.

“Maybe, if I’m even luckier,” he says slowly, “you’ll dance with me?”

Oh .

I instinctively start to say no, a million excuses rising to my mind, but he’s just…waiting. He’s not being pushy, and he’s not getting any closer to me. He’s just holding his hand out casually. It feels like he’s really just asking , like there’s no expectation behind it, even if I can see the blatant hope in his eyes. I wrestle with my guilt for a second, trying to decide what to say.

Part of me doesn’t want to lead him on, to say yes and give him the wrong idea. But a larger part of me wants to say no because of Jamie, and as soon as the realization crosses my mind, I make my decision.

Jamie cheated on me. He dumped me for the rodeo circuit without a second thought, and he’s well and thoroughly proved that he doesn’t give a shit about me anymore, if he ever did.

Jamie and I are through.

I’m in New York. I’m a free woman now, even if I’m not used to thinking of myself like that. I can say yes to a dance if I damn well want to.

And Shane isn’t pushing. He’s just waiting patiently, smiling softly at me. At most, I’m sharing a dance with a new coworker and—maybe—a new friend. I take a deep breath, pasting on a smile that I hope is convincing enough. After all, my hesitance has nothing to do with Shane.

“Sure,” I breathe out, placing my hand in his, “why not?”

It feels like a first step forward, away from my past.

I guess the only way to see what happens is to do it. I place my empty cup down on the table and let Shane lead me out into the crowd.