Love Drunk Cowboy (35 page)

She giggled. “She wouldn’t be caught at a dog fight in overalls, much less covered in sweat and dirt. And riding on a tractor? That is a funny vision.”

“I’m glad you are home, Austin. I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss you when you are gone. I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he said.

She’d wondered after the first few times that she talked to him why she was so drawn to their conversations on the phone. Why she felt so energized and happy when she talked to him. Ten years and she’d never met the man who’d been such a big part of her grandmother’s life. Then she met him in the café. Was that fate and if it was, why?

Hell’s bells, I betcha Granny fixed that too! She’s been having a grand old time making sure the timing was right for us. That’s why she didn’t want her ashes scattered until Easter—so I’d be here for the first of the planting. And that’s why she doesn’t want us to have sex at his house. She wants us to settle into the place across the road. Sly old girl, aren’t you?

“You look pretty serious over there. Regrets?” Rye asked.

“No regrets.”

“
Cháchara?
” He chuckled.

“I’ve got lots of time to take care of the rest of the junk. Tomorrow I will call a company for one of those roll-off Dumpsters. When it arrives the scoop shovel can take care of the
cháchara
.”

“Set up a couple of tables out in the yard and put all the junk you don’t want on them. Put a sign that says ‘free’ in great big letters on it and you’ll be surprised how little of it gets into the Dumpster.”

“Is that where Granny got so much junk? Did she go to free sales?”

“She loved garage sales and the Red Barn. My grandmother is the same way. I’ll take you to her house sometime. It looks just like Granny Lanier’s.”

“You are kidding me.”

“No, I’m not. They’ve both got their own quirks but they are a lot alike. Like planting the first seeds of each row by hand.”

“Yes, she did have her ways and she was superstitious as hell.”

“So is Grandma,” Rye said.

“We made good time getting out of the airport traffic. We shouldn’t even have to wait for a table.”

“Good because I’m really hungry. Mother says I’ll be calling Omar the tentmaker to design my clothes if I stay in Terral.”

What stuck in his brain was “if I stay in Terral.” She must have a few doubts hiding in the shadows of her subconscious to say that, but he would erase them if it took every damn bit of the energy he had left in his body.

“Granny was tall and thin and never watched a thing she ate. A couple of years ago the doctor told her that her cholesterol was slightly elevated and if she’d be careful she might never have to take medicine for it. Know what her response was?”

Austin nodded. “I will eat what I want and die when I’m supposed to.”

He parked the truck and unfastened his seat belt. Turning toward Austin, he ran the back of his hand down her jawline. “I wouldn’t care if Omar did make your clothes.”

Her nose wrinkled in disbelief and she said, “Really?”

“Really.” He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “You’d be beautiful in a burlap bag tied up in the middle with a piece of frayed out rope.”

“I already told you that flattery will get you anything you want, including a bump on the head or bathtub sex.” She quickly unfastened her seat belt and opened the door. She met him in front of the truck and he laced his fingers in hers.

They devoured the first basket of tortilla chips and went through two bowls of salsa before their meal arrived. She was on her second beer when she realized he was still nursing his first one and raised an eyebrow.

He read her expression and held up the mug. “I’m driving. One is my limit. You don’t have a limit.”

“I love this stuff. Never drank it, so it’s not an acquired taste. Must be a dormant gene that’s surfacing.”

“You never drank beer? Not even in college?”

She shook her head. “I always had a martini and my limit was one.”

“When did you have your first one?”

“At your house. My dad loved a good cold beer, but Momma said she wouldn’t kiss him with beer on his breath, so he didn’t drink them often. Guess that’s my dormant gene. Did Granny like beer?”

“Honey, your granny loved beer. Coors was her favorite. That and Jack Daniels, neat. Two fingers.”

“That I knew. It’s pretty damn good, too. I had one yesterday just to see. Granny told me that it was sipping whiskey, not the kind that you throw back down your throat like they did in the old western movies.”

Rye stuffed a flour tortilla with grilled beef, peppers, and onions, added a bit of guacamole and a spoonful of salsa. “She’s right. It is sippin’ whiskey. It’s meant to be savored, not tossed back. Kind of like sex with you,” he teased.

“Then that must be the reason I like it so well!”

They talked all the way home just like two old friends but when he parked in the front yard, friendship stopped and something far deeper began. The kisses started at the pickup door with a slow brush across Austin’s lips. They intensified so much with each step that by the time they reached the porch a step at a time, she was panting, he was breathing hard, and red-hot desire could have been written in the stars overhead.

She was pressed against the wall but didn’t break the kiss to reach around behind her, open the front door, and walk backwards into the house. She kicked the door shut with her boot heel and unfastened his plaid western shirt starting at the top and working her way down through three buttons before sinking her hands into all those muscles and groaning.

He slipped his hands under her blouse and whispered, “I love touching you.”

Her lips found his again in the darkness.

He didn’t tell her that he liked a woman her size, that tiny women scared the bejesus out of him. She didn’t tell him that she had never been so turned on in her life or that she didn’t care if she got another leg cramp. She peeled his shirt from his broad shoulders and tossed it at the sofa. “Sit down and let me get those boots off.”

He pulled her down to the sofa with him and removed her blouse and bra before he let her remove his boots. She sat on him backwards, put one hand under the heel of the boot and one on the toe and had them both off in seconds.

“You’re pretty damn good at that.”

“I’m learning,” she said.

His fingertips danced up and down her bare back, sneaking around the sides for quick touches of the sides of her bare breasts and loving the way she gasped. The past was gone and he wanted to be a big part of her future.

She stood up and led him down the short hallway to her grandmother’s bedroom, fell back on the full-sized bed, and dragged him down with her.

He didn’t know when her boots had been left behind but when he pulled her jeans down over her hips they were already gone. Moonlight flickering through lace curtains on the window made her red toenails sparkle. He kissed each one individually, taking time to make her moan before making his way back up to her lips.

“Don’t make me wait. I’ve thought about this moment all day. I was scared to death that the plane would have to land somewhere between Tulsa and Dallas and I wouldn’t be able to do this.” She ran her hands over his body, and felt tension and desire bottled up there as much as she felt it in her own body.

“Yes, ma’am, but I do not intend to hurry. I’ve thought of nothing else all day too.” His breath was warm against her already-hot skin.

He started a rhythm that produced shivers, purring noises, and long, sensual kisses. Keeping things from going too fast was the hardest job he’d ever done but he made it last until she finally dug her nails into his back and pleaded. After which he rolled to one side and drew her close to his side.

They slept until midnight in the soft glow of moonlight and that special light reserved for cowboys and the women who brand them. She awoke first to find his strong leg thrown over her body, one arm under her and the other over her, her breasts pressed into his chest and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

That uncanny feeling that tells a person when someone is staring at them awoke him. He opened his eyes slowly and hugged her tighter.

“Round two?” He kissed her neck right where the hickey still shined.

“Too tired. Time for you to go home. We’ve both got a big week ahead of us and rodeo on the weekend.”

“Wake me early and I’ll make breakfast,” he mumbled.

“Rye, I’m going to live in this town for the rest of my life. You are going home.”

“Okay! Okay!” He rolled off the bed and grabbed his jeans.

She pulled the sheet up under her arms and stood toe to toe with him. “Don’t get huffy.”

He hugged her close to his bare chest and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow and I’m not huffy.”

“I’ll cook supper, so plan to eat here.”

“And go home before daylight?”

“Probably before dark.”

He groaned. “I know I’ve said it a lot but you really are killing me, Austin Lanier.”

Tuesday night Kent and Rye spent until past dark working on a new loading chute for the rodeo bulls and getting them into the corral. He called Austin in the middle of the afternoon to tell her they wouldn’t be finished by suppertime. She answered the phone from the seat of a tractor and told him she and the guys were plowing weeds that day. She was about to call him to say that she wouldn’t have time to cook but they could grab a basket of fish at the Peach Orchard. By the day’s end they were both too tired to do anything but talk on the phone ten minutes before they fell asleep.

Wednesday night Austin worked until after ten o’clock, the last two hours by the light of the tractor headlights. Felix said it was important to get the whole crop fed and sprayed if they wanted to make some real money at harvest. Austin didn’t have a high paying office job anymore and she didn’t want to touch the savings accounts Verline had left for her. She wanted to prove to her mother that she could make a watermelon farm work from day one and to show her granny that she hadn’t put her trust in a quitter. Rye called at eleven from the motel in Mesquite.

“I wanted a kiss before I left but you were nowhere in sight,” he said.

“Me too, but I must’ve been at the end of the row on a tractor. I’ll see you Friday night. Gemma called this afternoon and said she had another room put on the block for the season so I can go any weekend I want to.”

“You could have stayed in my room.”

“Yes, I could and I might. But…”

“I know,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“So do you go every week this early?”

“No, just this time when I bring down the stock. After this, only weekends. Kent takes care of the place for me while I’m gone. When I’m in Oklahoma I pay a groundkeeper to feed and take care of the bulls.”

“I see.” She yawned. “Your house looks vacant and I miss you!”

“Now you know how I felt when you were in Tulsa. I miss you too. Are you already in bed?”

“Yes, I am. You?”

“Oh, yeah. What are you wearing?”

“You won’t laugh at me?”

“Promise.”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“You are killing me graveyard dead.”

“Well, you sleep in the raw. I decided to try it and it’s wonderful.”

He chuckled. “When you get down here, darlin’, I’ll show you how wonderful it is. Now, go to sleep. Dream of me.”

“Good night, Rye.” She didn’t tell him that every time she shut her eyes she dreamed of him.

Thursday night she went to bed at ten and was asleep when her head hit the pillow. At midnight she awoke to every hair on her neck standing straight up. She rolled over to look out the window on the other side of the bed and found Rye lying next to her, propped up on an elbow. “I missed you so bad that I drove home for the night. I’ll go back tomorrow morning. I just want to spend the night beside you.”

“Oh, Rye! That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

He grinned and his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. He gathered her in his arms and snuggled against her back. “I’m not here for sex tonight, darlin’. I just want to hold you until morning and wake up with you in my arms. Don’t tell me to go home.”

“To hell with what people think. Hold me.” She snuggled deeper into his arms and shut her eyes. She awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon, and to the noise of rattling pots and pans. She smiled and slung her legs out of bed.

Life was truly good!

He left right after breakfast and enough kisses to keep her until she could make it to the motel and rodeo that night. She drove the new truck into Nocona to the feed store to fill the order for more fertilizer and spray. Next spring she was putting a couple of feeder steers and some hogs back in the lots east of the house and maybe even getting a few of those baby chickens to grow up into fryers. She got back in time for Felix to mix up the right amounts for the tanks and check the spraying apparatus to make sure the filters were working properly. Then it was lunchtime so she wolfed down two sandwiches, half a bag of corn chips, and the rest of a container of guacamole dip. She did the payroll and headed to the bank.

When she walked into the drugstore Molly waved from the first table at the back of the place. “Hey, girl, we wondered if we’d see you today. We’re havin’ a dip of each kind. What do you want?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, whatever you said.”

Greta told the waitress and scanned Austin from head to toe. “Good lookin’ tan you got there. Better be sure to use lots of that sunscreen shit. You don’t want to grow up and have as many wrinkles as me and Molly got. We didn’t have that sunscreen stuff when we was your age or we might still look like movie stars. Oma Fay said that you came home for good. Darlin’, do you have any idea how hot the summer is down here out there on a tractor or bringing in a crop? This ain’t play. It’s real work.”

“I thought you wanted me to come home.”

Molly nodded so hard all three of her chins wiggled. “We do, but we don’t want you to get Rye’s hopes all up and then leave him high and dry. Farmin’ ain’t pretty shoes in an air-conditioned office. It’s dirty work.”