Love Drunk Cowboy (23 page)

“Are you one of those big brother types?”

“I am.”

“I bet they just love that.”

He reached across the console separating them and laced his fingers in hers. “Don’t care if they love it or not. I’m protective. They were the babies of the family and Momma said us boys had to take care of them. Colleen has always had her head on straighter than Gemma so I don’t have to big brother her as much as I do Gemma.”

He drove through town and made the turn north toward Duncan. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. How far is it?”

“Forty miles.”

“Then they’d better double what they put out on the buffet tonight. Did you and Granny ever go to this place?”

He grinned and the dimple in his chin deepened. “Granny hated Chinese food. Her favorite restaurant food was whatever they served out at the Peach Orchard. She did occasionally like a hamburger from the Dairy Queen in Nocona.”

Sitting so close that every breath brought her a fresh wave of his shaving lotion, she had two choices. Either make him talk to divert her mind from the naughty thoughts dancing around in her head or else flip that console back and slide across the seat and nuzzle her face into his neck. Talking seemed the better choice so she asked, “Why did your parents name you Rye?”

He smiled again and she wished she’d forgotten the questions and did the sliding.

“The story Dad tells is that they had a different name picked out. I was supposed to be Holt after a bull rider they liked. But when she was in labor she kept telling Dad if he’d sneak a bottle of Old Overholt rye whiskey into the room and let her have a couple of shots that the pain would go away. Then they got to singing that old county song, ‘Rye Whiskey,’ between pains. When I was born they decided that Rye was a better name for me than Holt.”

“So you’re named after the whiskey your momma liked and I’m named after the city where I was conceived. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we? Hey, that mural on the side of the building there…” She pointed at the end of a big building in Ryan as they went through town, “with the cows and cowboys. What are they talking about? The Chisholm Trail?”

“It’s the path the ranchers drove their cattle up through going to Nebraska to ship them off to the east. Came across the Red River and right through Terral and Ryan. I heard in the day that there were lots of banks and brothels in this area. They still have a reenactment every year of the cattle run. They start in Terral and ride horses and herd a few head of cattle up north. The newspapers come around and write up stories and take pictures of the chuck wagons and covered wagons when they head off up 81.”

“They go right up the highway? Doesn’t that cause problems?”

“Hasn’t yet. I’ve got to stop up at the truck stop outside of Waurika to fill up the truck. You want to grab a candy bar or something to hold you until we get to Duncan?” he asked.

“No, I’m going to embarrass you with how much I eat when we get there. But I could go to the bathroom,” she told him. She was surprised that she had said such a thing but she was as comfortable with Rye as if they’d known each other their whole lives.

It was only a few more minutes before she saw the truck stop at the crossroads in Waurika. He pulled up to the gas tanks and she hopped out to run inside. The truck stop was a convenience store on one end with snack foods, drinks, and souvenirs and the other end was a restaurant. Her stomach growled when she smelled the aroma of grilled onions.

“Restrooms?” she asked the lady behind the counter.

She pointed toward the back of the store. “All the way to the back. Women on the right.”

“Thank you.”

She used the restroom, checked her makeup and hair in the mirror as she washed her hands, and was walking back toward the door when she overheard two women talking. One asked the other if she was taking her kids to the rattlesnake festival and said that the armbands were twenty dollars this year.

“Well, when you consider how many rides my kids will whine about that’s a pretty good deal.”

Austin made her way out to the pickup where Rye had finished filling the gas tank and waited in the cab. That’s when she saw the sign that said “Rattlesnake Hunt.”

“What’s that all about?”

“This is the weekend for the big Waurika Rattlesnake Festival. It kicks off tonight. They rope off three or four blocks of Main Street and have a big foo-rah.”

“Do they have food?”

“Just about any kind you can think of.”

“Can we go there rather than Duncan?”

He grinned. “It’s noisy, loud, and there’s lots of people. It won’t be as intimate as dinner and a movie but we can do whatever you like. Ever been to a rattlesnake festival?”

“No, do they have real snakes or what’s the deal?”

“For weeks locals hunt the snakes and bring them to the festival. There are prizes for the biggest snake, the most pounds, and the most rattlers. There’ll be pens of them so you can see them and vendors where you can buy fried snake. Want to taste it or change your mind and go for Chinese?”

“I want to go to see the snakes. Is it like a circus?”

“More like a miniature state fair. Ever been to one of those?”

She shook her head. “Rides?”

“Lots of them. Think very small amusement park.”

“Ferris wheel?”

He started the engine and turned the truck around. “Yes, ma’am.”

They passed several city blocks of garage sales before they turned right onto the street that had been barricaded off for the festival.

One woman’s junk is another woman’s treasure.

She’d heard her grandmother say that lots of times and wondered if Verline’s treasures came out of places just like she was seeing. The woman had enough money to build a brand new fancy house and have a decorator flown in from New York. She must have loved her little house with all its junk because that’s where she wanted to finish her life and that’s exactly what she did.

Rye nosed the truck into a scarce parking spot. “Look like something you’d be interested in?”

“No, thank you. There’s twice as much in Granny’s house as whatever they are selling in their garage sales.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. Look out ahead of you at all the vendors. You said you were hungry.”

She pointed as she crawled out of the truck. “Oh, yes, yes, yes! I want one of everything. Gyro. Turkey leg.”

“Before or after you ride on the zipper?”

Her mind plummeted into the gutter. Ride on the zipper? Well, she’d like a ride on the cowboy after the zipper was undone. She quickly turned her head toward the Ferris wheel so he couldn’t see high color filling her cheeks. “Not me. I’d throw up. I want two rides on the Ferris wheel.”

He grabbed her hand and started up through the vendors and games. “Then let’s get started. Gyro to start with, complete with onions?”

“Yes and sometime this evening you can win me one of those big teddy bears.”

“Have you never been to a carnival?”

She shook her head. “I watched
Steel Magnolias
three times in one day last year and cried my eyes out every time. I loved the scene where they were at the Christmas festival. This reminds me of that only in the spring rather than winter.”

“Are you going to eat snake too?”

She nodded, turned, and looked right into his eyes, not a foot from her face. “Yes, I am. What does it taste like?”

He let go of her hand and put his arm around her waist, tucking his fingers into her belt loops. “Something between fish and chicken. It’s white meat. Tastes a little like frog legs.”

“Never ate them either. Do they have them here?”

“Never know. The vendors change from one time to the next.” He steered her toward a wagon painted in bright colors and advertising gyro sandwiches. He ordered two deluxe sandwiches and two Cokes at the window then led the way to an empty table at the north end of the wagon. He pulled out her folding metal chair and moved his closer to her, leaving room for other folks if they wanted to sit while they ate. That put his thigh tight against hers and their shoulders touching.

She bit into the pita bread filled with meat, onions, and sauce and moaned. “This beats Chinese all to hell and I love good Chinese.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the food or the sensation of his body next to hers. She would have given up the food in a heartbeat rather than move her leg, though, so the food did take second place.

Kent appeared from behind the wagon with two gyros in his hand. “Hey, Rye, I thought you were on your way to Duncan. Hello, Austin.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the same table with them.

“Evenin’, Kent. Where’s your family?”

“They had to stop at the turkey leg wagon and get one each for the boys. Me and Malee like gyros so she sent me to get these and have them ready. Here they come now.”

Austin looked over at Rye.

He raised an eyebrow.

The older boy pointed at Austin. “Hi, Rye. Who’s that?”

Rye made introductions. “This is Austin Lanier. You remember Granny Lanier. This is her granddaughter. And Austin, this is Malee, Kent’s better half, and his sons, Creed and Mason.”

Austin looked at the turkey legs. “Pleased to meet you all. Are those turkey legs any good?”

“Best in the world. Mine’s bigger than Mason’s,” Creed said.

Mason drew his back like a club. “Is not. You take that back or I’ll whip you all over this place with my turkey leg.”

“You two stop fighting or you won’t ride a single ride,” Malee said.

Creed glared at Mason, who shook his turkey leg at his brother.

“I heard you was workin’ out at Granny’s house. How’s it going? Need some help?” Malee asked.

“Thanks but I’m getting it under control,” Austin answered.

Malee was a short, thin woman with stringy light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore jeans and a knit shirt with a picture of Betty Boop on the front. Her brown eyes were too big for the rest of her face and her lips were thin.

“Well, you need any help you just call me. Boys are in school and I work but I’m free in the evenings and on Saturdays.”

“Thank you.”

Austin had never seen two huge turkey legs turn into nothing but bones so quickly. The minute Creed and Mason had swallowed their last bite they began to run around the table begging their parents to hurry so they could go ride the round-up.

The two boys put their heads together behind hands and Austin could see orneriness flowing like hot lava from their glittering brown eyes. It was the smiles on their faces as they discussed what they were about to get into that convinced her they were every bit as feisty as she’d heard.

Malee turned to Austin and said, “It was nice meeting you. I was serious about coming around to help. Call me if you need me.”

Austin smiled at Rye as Malee and Kent walked away, Creed and Mason running off ahead. “They are going to give Kent and Malee fits when they are teenagers.”

“Wouldn’t be no different than now. I told you they were a couple of stinkers.”

“I believe you!” Austin giggled. “And you want children. What if they turn out like that?”

“They won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I wasn’t like that. Verline was Pearlita’s friend. She and Kent’s momma are distant cousins even though there’s a lot of age difference. So Verline knew Kent and Oma Fay, his mother, all their lives and Pearlita was kin so she really knew them. I’m not making myself clear but what I’m trying to say is that Kent was just like those boys. Oma Fay let him do anything he wanted and never used a bit of discipline. I don’t know how he turned out to be the man he is. Verline said that Malee straightened him out. Anyway, Oma Fay keeps the boys for Malee and Kent to work and she’s doing the same with them that she did with Kent. My mother had three boys in four years. I was four and Raylen was two when Dewar was born. She didn’t have time or patience to let us run wild. So I intend to raise my kids like I was raised, not like Kent was.”

Austin wasn’t sure she understood the whole line of thought but she did like to listen to his deep Texas drawl. That and his hard muscles right next to her was enough to stay right there all night and forfeit the rest of the festival.

“I see.” She polished off the last of her gyro.

“What next?” Rye asked.

Please tell me you’ve had a change of heart and I’ll find the nearest motel.

“I want to see all of it. Let’s start right here and walk slow all the way down one side and come up the other one. Where are the snakes?”

“They usually keep them down by the courthouse in pens. They throw up a temporary goat fence pen for protection but I guarantee you can hear them rattling even from that distance.”

She stopped at a wine tasting booth and they tasted several kinds of wines, none of which came close to Granny Lanier’s watermelon wine. The next booth offered Indian tacos.

“Remind me before we leave to get a couple of those to take home for a midnight snack,” she said.

Rye slipped an arm around her waist. “You have plans of working up an appetite before midnight?”

She wanted to weep. She would have loved to work up an appetite with a good bout of sex but Gemma was at her house. She had been thinking of her and the fact that Gemma’s anger and sadness would be gone by the time Austin returned to the house and she’d be hungry.

“Person never knows what the evening might hold.”

The next place displayed all kinds of costume jewelry. Austin’s eye was drawn to a necklace made of big silver beads with a pendant of two crossed pistols over angel wings.

“You like that one?” Rye picked it up and fastened it around her neck. The cold metal and his ultra hot hands combined to create a hot sizzling desire that started a fire in the pit of her heart and radiated out to the rest of her body.

Damn it, if I don’t get my hormones in check, I’m going to have to find a booth that sells panties! They really should have one with this many sexy cowboys running around without wedding rings on their fingers.

She looked in the tiny mirror on the side of the display and nodded. “I’m buying it. I love it.”

She would probably never wear it again after that night. Monday… Tulsa!