"I do, thank you." He was so damn handsome her heart jumped every time she looked at him, but right now she was seeing Nashville Davis Rayburn, millionaire. Even if he didn't normally show it off, this private box, the plush surroundings, screamed it at her. She would have been content in the bleachers, eating hot dogs and drinking beer, while he was comfortable with champagne and canapés and waiters in white jackets. He'd earned it, she knew, but just the same, it made the differences between them all the more apparent.
He was caviar. She was a pig-in-a-blanket.
She smiled at the thought.
"Hayley, honey." He slung his arm over the back of the sofa, effectively creating privacy. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
He gripped her chin with a thumb and forefinger, gazing into her eyes. "I can feel it. What's bothering you?"
When he looked at her like that, her deepest secrets could spill out without restraint. "I'm glad we came. It gives me a chance to really know your world."
He reared back a bit. "My world? You act like it's Mount Olympus or something."
She smiled again. "Close."
He let go of her chin, brushing the backs of his fingers across her cheek. Nash saw this place through her eyes, saw the wealth and money she'd never had. Damn. He'd never known anything to rattle her cage, but this had. Even if she tried to hide it. And though he didn't want her to think she wasn't welcome or that he was in any way ashamed of her, the move had backfired.
"Listen to me, honey. Those people—" he inclined his head to the groups behind him "—aren't my friends. Most of them have never set foot in a barn, let alone a place like River Willow. My friends are people like Andrew."
Hayley blinked, shocked that he knew her feelings.
"I don't mind this." She waved at the elegant surroundings. "Don't get me wrong—what woman minds being treated like a princess? But it seems so … detached."
"Snotty, you mean."
"Well…"
He took the champagne flute from her and set it aside, then stood, holding out his hand.
"Come on, Dr. Albright. Let's blow this pop stand."
She smiled and rose, picking up her hat. They left, but they didn't go to the bleachers. Nash led her up onto the fence rail, and they sat there, eating hot dogs, sipping beer and watching the show.
Hayley loved it.
Nash knew it.
Then a dark-haired man stopped by them. "Hey, Nash, you gonna join us this year?"
Nash jumped down, helping Hayley to the ground before he spoke. "I hadn't planned on it."
Hayley dumped their trash and wiped her hands as the man said, "Come on, pal. Chris Kramer broke his ankle and Dodd's wife is having a baby. We could use the extra body."
Hayley looked between the two men. Nash introduced her to Royce, and though he tipped his hat to her, he was intent on getting Nash to do something.
"I'm with a guest," Nash said.
Hayley touched his arm. "Whatever it is, Nash, go do it if you want. I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
Her hands on her hips, she gave him a "get real" look. "I've been on my own for a while, Rayburn. I think I can handle this."
He grinned. "Okay, see ya in a few." He gave her a quick kiss, helped her back up onto the rail, then patted a platform close to it. "Stay right here so I can find you."
She could feel his almost childlike excitement and laughed to herself as he took off like a shot with Royce. She shifted onto the short platform, her feet hanging over the edge. Beside her sat several girls wearing banners diagonally across their chest. Rodeo princesses, she thought. They were young and pretty and flirting with the cowboys walking past. Hayley grinned when one young man tried making a pass at her, until one of the girls told him she was Nash Rayburn's woman. The kid looked as if he'd committed a sin and tipped his hat to her. Nash Rayburn's woman. Hayley scoffed. Boy, was that sexist. Not that it didn't feel good to hear it, but she knew she was taking far more pleasure in that than she ought.
Music blared as the trick riders left the arena, and she searched the area for Nash. She listened to the garbled announcement, then asked the girl beside her. A competition, she said, a rodeo decathlon of sorts. First a barrel race, then roping and tying off a calf, ending with bronc riding. Hayley's heart started to pound as she scanned the riders lining up. There were only five of them. And one was Nash.
Oh, mercy, no.
Men and horses filed out into the huge arena. Nash was closest to her. Royce was next to him and they shook hands. Then Nash lifted his gaze to hers and smiled. She waved, a strange sense of pride swimming through her. His horse pranced. He was by far the best-looking man out there. He was in it for the fun of it, she realized, because if he wasn't, the animal beneath him would have been one of his own mounts. And he'd have practiced.