Charlie / Rodeo / Open
There were some things in this life Rodeo would never have believed he would see. A hippo in the Mississippi, a Playboy centerfold he didn't like, and a cut of meat he wouldn't eat were amongst those things. But topping that list? Definitely Charlie in a dress and makeup.
And yet, there she was.
It had taken a while for him to find her, likely because he hadn't quite believed she would really wear the damn thing. He had spent a while combing the crowd for her, looking for her everyday attire-- dark cargo pants, olive-drab jacket, kickass combat boots. He wasn't looking for what he eventually found, and once he spotted her he nearly wound up losing her again to the crowd when he found himself stuck in place, staring.
It wasn't that he didn't love the way she looked every day, didn't find her tough, sensible style sexy in its own right. It was just such a sweet change of pace, and she looked so damn hot in that short little dress. He stared too long at the way the fabric clung to her curves, at those strong, smooth bare legs. He wanted to rush forward, to grab her in his arms and kiss her, but he reckoned that just scooping her right up would earn him a punch in the eye before he made it to the kissing part. Instead he cut through the crowd, reaching the bar just before she did and slipping behind the counter. He grabbed a bottle of Stoli, setting it down on the bar just as she reached it, grinning over the counter at her and arching his brows playfully.