Love Drunk Cowboy (22 page)

“Yes, she was. Thank you for sharing that with me.” Austin signed the credit card slip and carried her bag outside. She tossed the brown paper bag into the passenger’s seat and giggled. “I’ll have to get those fancy under britches for Miss Lily when I get to a Victoria’s Secret, girls. I’m not wearing hand-me-down underpants.”

Austin rushed home, carried her secondhand clothing into the house, and dumped them on the floor beside the washing machine. She crammed all the jeans inside the machine, added liquid detergent, and turned it on.

Then she paid the hired hands and listened with half an ear as Felix told her the rain was supposed to pass on through that night and the weekend would dry the land out so they could get back to planting on Monday.

Monday, she was supposed to be back at work in Tulsa. She would not think about that. Rye was coming home and she had to be ready for a date with him.

When the washer had finished its cycle, she tossed the jeans into the dryer, reset the washer on delicate, and tossed in the shirts. She was ironing a pair of jeans when her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and answered on the third ring.

“Where were you? I was getting worried when you didn’t answer on the second ring. Is everything all right down there in the land-that-stood-still?” her mother said.

“Mother, I can take care of myself.”

“Are you on your way home?”

“I’m ironing jeans for a date tonight.”

“Don’t tease me, Austin!”

“I’m not. Molly and Greta, that’s two of Granny’s old friends, and I had banana splits at the drugstore in Ryan today and they told me about this cute little shop called The Red Barn. I bought jeans and boots for tonight’s date with Rye. We’re going for Chinese and then a movie.” She punched the speaker button and laid the phone on the windowsill beside the ironing board.

Total silence on the other end made her think her cell phone had gone dead.

“Mother?”

“I’m here.”

“Mother, I’m coming home in a couple of days. Stop worrying.”

“You’ve come so far in your career. I hate to see you throw it all away for a watermelon farm.”

Austin rolled her eyes. She hated trying to reason with her mother because the guilt trip would follow and that’s what she really, really hated.

“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m going out on a date with a really hunky cowboy. I deserve it after a hard week in the fields.”

“I don’t have to remind you that you are the only grandchild my mother and father have too. I’ve made plans for Sunday. We are having a family dinner right here. Both of your aunts are coming and your grandparents. Promise me you’ll be here. We’re eating at seven. That will give you plenty of time to drive home and get ready.”

“I will be there,” she said but her blue eyes did a double roll.

And her heart took a tumble down past her knees to the floor. Did she really want to go to Tulsa or plant watermelons?

“Good!” Barbara’s voice was suddenly chipper. “Your boss came in today to look at a new car for his wife. He mentioned that he’s looking forward to retirement in six months and that he knows you will do fine when they promote you to department supervisor. I’m so proud of you. To think my child is going to be in charge of operations at the oldest oil company in Tulsa when she’s only thirty. Your grandparents are going to be so, so happy when we tell them on Sunday.”

“Mother, I’ve got to get these jeans finished and my shirt is almost dry and I have to iron it too. I’ve got to go or I won’t be ready when Rye gets here.”

“Enjoy your fling, darlin’. You should have something out of the sorriest vacation of your entire career. See you on Sunday for dinner.”

“I told you I’ll be there. Stop worrying about me. Good-bye, Mother.”

She’d barely hung up when the phone rang again. She pushed the button, left it on speaker, and said, “Hello.”

“Hi, sweetie, it’s Aunt Joan. I’m told we’re having a family dinner. Was wondering if you want to go shopping tomorrow for something new to wear to the affair? I hear Neiman’s has a sale going.” Her voice was almost identical to Barbara’s but had a very, very slight nasal twang. All of the Watson girls looked as if they’d been popped out of the same mold: dark-haired beauties with blue eyes and built on a tall, slim frame that was stunning in business suits.

Without even shutting her eyes, Austin could imagine her Aunt Joan in her quaint little two-story house on five acres of prime land in Memphis, Tennessee. She was ten years older than Barbara, which made her sixty-two years old.

“Wow!” Austin said when she realized Aunt Joan was close to retirement age.

“So we’ll do Neiman’s and have lunch then?”

“No, I won’t be home until Sunday. How long are you staying in Tulsa?”

“I’m just flying over for the weekend. Your mother tells me you are taking care of selling your grandmother’s farm? Never met her but I’m sorry you’ve got to waste your vacation time like that.”

“Thank you. I’ll look forward to seeing you then on Sunday at the dinner.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Ironing jeans. I found this cute little shop called The Red Barn and it’s got really reasonable prices. I’ve got a date tonight with the hunky cowboy rancher who lives across the street.”

“Why are you ironing jeans? Don’t they have a dry cleaner in town?”

Austin laughed. “Terral has a population of three hundred and eighty-six at last count. They barely have a grocery store and the school only goes to eighth grade.”

Joan gasped. “Sweet Jesus!”

“Take a week and fly into Dallas. I’ll pick you up and you can help me plant watermelons. Driving a tractor is a lot of fun and even though you are tired at the end of the day, you’ll feel like you’ve accomplished something.”

“Gotta run, darlin’. See you at the dinner. Don’t do anything foolish. Good-bye,” Joan spoke so fast that Austin only caught every other word.

She’d barely finished ironing the jeans when the phone rang again. Before she answered it she laid the creased jeans on the top of the washer and jerked the lacy western cut blouse from the dryer. It looked good enough that she didn’t need to iron it so she put it on a hanger and punched the speaker button.

“Hello.”

“Hi. I was about to hang up or leave a message. This is your Aunt Clydia. Where are you? Still at work?”

“You know where the hell I am. Mother called, didn’t she?”

“She’s worried about you. Thirty is a tough age and you’ve got this promotion and all the responsibility that will go with it. She’s afraid you’ll throw everything away on a whim,” Clydia said sternly. She was a year younger than Joan but a hundred times bossier and a thousand times more serious. A smile might ruin every Botox injection she’d ever had and she wasn’t taking any chances on that.

“I’ve got a date tonight with the sexiest cowboy this side of the Red River. He’s got muscles across his chest that would make even your hormones go into overdrive and his kisses are like heaven. When his big old callused hands touch my bare back I want to roll over like a puppy and let him do anything he wants to my body.” Austin smiled when she heard Clydia suck air.

“What? Are you serious? You are teasing me because you think I’m interfering in your life, aren’t you? For God’s sake, Austin, you weren’t raised to talk like that or…” Clydia stammered.

“Or what?”

“You better keep your goals in your sights and not do anything stupid.” Clydia quickly regained her superior status after the stuttering tirade.

“I’ll see you Sunday. If I’m smiling you’ll know I got lucky.”

“Good God!” Clydia hung up without a good-bye.

“Jesus
is
sweet. God isn’t good; He’s great. Beer is good. And people are the crazy ones according to that country song I heard on the radio. I’m
damn
glad I don’t have but two aunts or I’d never get ready on time,” she told Rascal, who had curled up on top of the dryer.

The house phone rang at seven o’clock just as she was slipping her feet into the buff-colored boots she’d bought that day. She reached for it and propped it on her shoulder, hoping she could get rid of whoever was calling quickly because Rye would be there any minute.

“Hello,” she said cautiously.

“I’m running about ten minutes late.”

Rye’s deep Texas voice sent shivers all the way to her toes.

“No problem. I’m just now getting my boots on.”

“I was expecting you to have on those high-heeled things but boots sure does draw up a pretty picture in my head. I can’t wait to see you. Be there in ten.”

She made one more run to the bathroom mirror to check her makeup and hair and was on the way down the hall when she heard the crunch of truck tires in the driveway. Boot heels sounded on the wooden porch and she swung the door open to find Gemma, her eyes swollen and her face a mess from crying.

“Can I come in? Rye isn’t here, is he?” Gemma asked.

“No, but he will be in about five minutes.”

Gemma started toward her truck in a trot. “Then I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Hey, put it in the backyard and I’ll call Rye. I can put him off for ten minutes,” Austin yelled.

“Hey, I was about to put my boots on and come over.”

“Give me ten minutes. I had a makeup emergency and I’m not quite ready,” she said smoothly.

“Sure thing. Looks like we should’ve said seven thirty instead of seven,” he chuckled. “No problem. We’ll have a nice long supper and see the late movie. You don’t have to get up early tomorrow, do you?”

She motioned Gemma into the house. “No, but if you don’t let me get this makeup fixed, it’s going to be a midnight movie.”

“I missed you so bad these past three days. Please don’t tell me that you turn into a pumpkin after midnight?”

“No but my Corvette does if I’m not home. Good-bye, Rye.” She put the phone back on the base.

Gemma stopped inside the door and wiped her teary swollen eyes. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you and Rye were going out. I just needed a place to go tonight where no one knows about.”

“You got ten minutes to talk and you are welcome to stay here. I just won’t be here. Is that all right?”

“It’s fine. I could’ve gone to a motel but I was afraid they’d track me down. You said to drop by anytime. I hope you meant it.”

“I did. What happened? Can I make a pot of coffee or get you something to drink before I go?”

“Got a good slug of whiskey?”

Austin pointed to the cabinet. “No but I’ve got a bottle of some pretty damn good watermelon wine right there and you are welcome to it.”

“That’ll do. Short story is that I’ve got… had this boyfriend. We’ve fought before. He doesn’t like it when I go anywhere with my girlfriends. I’m supposed to spend every minute with him doing what he likes, which most of the time I don’t like. Golf on television drives me crazy. It’s not such a short story, is it? Tonight we got into it again when I told him I was going out with my friends for dinner. The last time we broke up I promised Rye I’d never go back with him because my boyfriend slapped me and Rye wanted to kill him.”

Austin patted her on the shoulder and took down a tumbler from the cabinet. “Enough said. Pour this full of wine and if it doesn’t do the trick, pour up a second one. You can hide out here all weekend if you want. There’s food in the fridge and more wine on the cabinet. Make yourself at home. You can sleep in Granny’s room or on the sofa. Take your pick. The room with the twin bed is mine. Turn off your cell phone and if you need to make any calls do it on the house phone. That way no one can track you by your phone. I hear Rye driving up so I’m going out to meet him on the porch.”

Gemma nodded. “You are a good woman, Austin.”

“Shhhhh,” Austin opened the door and stepped outside. “Hey, right on time. It’s been exactly ten minutes and my makeup disaster is fixed.”

Rye was thunderstruck by Austin all dressed up in creased blue jeans, a western cut top that belonged on a country music star in concert, and boots. His eye went from her boots up to the belt buckle that glittered in the fading light of a setting sun and on up past a long slender neck to the prettiest girl in the county. Hell, she might even be the prettiest one in the whole state of Oklahoma.

“You are beautiful tonight. My vision did not do you justice.” He met her at the bottom of the steps and wrapped her up in his arms. How could he ever let her go on Sunday? He wanted to carry her across the road and lock her in his house and flush the key down the toilet.

He tilted her head to the right level with his fist and claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss so full of passion that it set her hormones to humming so loud that her ears buzzed.

Monday!
Reality stopped the hum and sent cold chills down her spine.

He broke away and planted a soft kiss on each eyelid, then stepped to one side, laced his fingers in hers, and led her to the truck.

“I missed you, Rye,” she said. “And darlin’, my vision did not do you justice either.”

“Me?” His crazy old cowboy heart swelled up until it put pressure on his rib cage. She’d said that she missed him. “I’m just an old cowboy who drove hard all day and looked forward to a Friday night with a pretty woman.”

“So you like a woman in jeans and boots better than one in a dress suit and spike heels?” she asked.

He stopped beside the truck and put a palm on each side of her face. “Darlin’, everything I’ve seen you in so far has looked damn fine. You are gorgeous in a suit, smashin’ in overalls and sneakers, and almighty delightful in whatever them shorts you wore to the river. But in jeans and boots you are delicious lookin’.” He brushed a kiss across her lips so light and yet so full of promise that she shivered.

He settled her into her seat and shut the door.

She could see the tail end of Gemma’s little truck in the headlights and was glad that he hadn’t noticed it.

“Your sisters wear high heels. What’s the matter with them?” she asked as he backed the truck up to the road.

“Yep, they do.” He headed west, through town to Highway 81 where he’d turn north. “They’re half cowgirl and half hussy. See, I called them hussies and I love them so that proves I wasn’t being mean when I called your mother a hussy.”