Red's Hot Cowboy (16 page)

I begged Vince to wear that kind but oh, no, he liked Drakkar. That’s what he was wearing that night when we both lost our virginity in that motel outside Sherman. We rode up there on his motorcycle, registered as Mr. and Mrs. Waylon Haggard. God, we thought we were being so cute using two country music stars’ names. The lady behind the register didn’t care if we were Mr. and Mrs. Mickey Mouse as long as Vince put his money on the counter.

Wil held up his empty bottle of Coors and took a step toward her and all the thoughts of that first love vanished. He brushed a quick kiss across her lips and hugged her tightly. “It was a long three days.”

“Oh, really?” Her voice sounded normal. That was a big shock. That kiss made her feel as if she’d jogged the whole twenty-something miles from Henrietta, Texas, to Terral, Oklahoma.

“Hello, darlin’.” A tall brunette plastered herself to Wil’s side. “I didn’t know if you’d be here but I was hopin’.”

Wil could have put his big hands around Colleen’s neck and strangled her until her lips turned blue and her eyes popped out. He had no idea she’d bring her friend from Randlett to the party—the friend he’d dated a couple of times. The one who’d wanted to move in with him after the first date.

“Stormy, meet Pearl. She’s—”

Stormy threw her arm around Wil’s waist and tucked a thumb in his belt loop. She wore tight skinny-legged jeans, a black knit shirt decorated with flashy multi-colored jewels across her perky silicone breasts, and high-heeled black shoes. Her straight brown hair was cut in a feathered look, probably by Gemma, and her makeup had been applied with an egg turner or a shovel, whichever had been handy at the time. Her eyes were blitzed and her lips slack from too much whiskey.

She giggled and hugged up even closer to Wil. “She’s the one who bailed you out of that murder trouble, right? Well, thank you for doin’ that for my feller. You did a good thing. Wil, darlin’, you are here so that means we got another chance, don’t we?”

“You are drunk, Stormy, and the answer would be no, we don’t have another chance,” Wil said.

Stormy pulled her thumb from his belt and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “At midnight I’ll be right here by the beer tub. You come on over and I’ll change your mind.”

She did an abrupt turnaround that would have sprawled her out on the floor if Dewar hadn’t caught her. “Well, Dewar O’Donnell, if I hadn’t already promised my midnight kiss to Wil, I’d give it to you for saving my ass from embarrassment.”

“Story of my life. I save the maiden in distress. Another cowboy gets the kiss,” Dewar said with a sideways wink at Wil.

“Sorry, darlin’. Little ol’ me can just stretch so far and Wil has already spoken for me.” Stormy went over to the table and mixed a Long Island iced tea.

Pearl raised an eyebrow.

“She’s drunk,” Wil said.

“Do you like women with trendy names like Stormy?”

“No, one time I got mixed up with Minnie Pearl.”

Pearl grinned. “No kiddin’. The real one from
Hee Haw
?”

“Hell, no! This was a foxy lady from Texas with red hair.”

“And what did you think of her?” Pearl asked.

Before he could answer, Stormy stomped past them. “Damn it if I have to take that from someone who says she’s my friend. What right has she got to tell me to stop drinking? This is New Year’s Eve and by damn, I can drink what I want and kiss who I want and it’s none of Colleen’s business.”

Colleen followed behind her. “Okay, Stormy, I’ll take you home. You’re in no shape to drive.”

“And have you whine around that I ruined your New Year’s Eve? I don’t think so,” she slurred. “I’ll drive my own self. I’m free, white, and a damn sight over twenty-one so get away from me.”

Colleen looked at Pearl.

Pearl shrugged her shoulders and raised both eyebrows. “She’s got a point.”

Colleen threw up her hands. “Friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”

They waited five full minutes for Stormy to return from the bedroom where she’d gone after her coat before Colleen went searching for her.

“She’s slipped out. I’d go after her but I don’t know which way she went,” Colleen said.

Wil patted her on the shoulder. “Hey, you didn’t take her to raise.”

Colleen dug her cell phone out of her purse and punched in a series of numbers. “Where in the hell are you?”

Pearl tried not to eavesdrop but Colleen was standing on one side of her and Wil was right in front of her. It was either eavesdrop or else stare at him, and listening in on Colleen’s conversation was a hell of a lot easier on the hormones than letting her eyes fall to that big silver belt buckle embossed with a bull rider.

Colleen’s tone softened. “You are crazy.”

Pearl tipped back her beer for a small sip. One beer and one glass of champagne to bring in the New Year was her limit. She’d have rooms to clean the next day. Bending, stooping, and stretching made horrid bed partners with hangovers.

“Promise?” Colleen laughed.

Wil winked and nodded toward the door.

She shook her head.

He raised an eyebrow.

She took another sip of beer.

“Okay, then, if you’ll stay right there. Good-bye.” Colleen flipped her phone shut. “She drove up to Ryan and is holed up at an old boyfriend’s house. She promised she’d stay there until she sobers up.”

“Aunt Pearlita always said that life is made up of faith, hope, and…”

“Love?” Wil said. “You are a good friend, Colleen.”

Colleen shook her head. “Patience? And mine is running thin.”

“No, you are both wrong. It’s faith, hope, and chaos,” Pearl said.

Colleen smiled. She was a beautiful woman, with that strange burgundy-colored hair and dark green eyes. She had translucent skin that very few redheads get blessed with. She wore tight jeans, an ecru sweater splashed with rhinestones and pearls, and three-inch black spike heels.

Pearl could forgive her every bit of it except the skin. That she was jealous about because when the angels were passing out freckles they dipped heavy in the wine hidden under the altar and had a heyday with Pearl’s face. Not even the best makeup in the world could cover them so Pearl had stopped trying years ago. At least until she saw another redhead with beautiful skin and then she felt that old bullfrog green jealousy oozing out her pores and freckles too.

Wil took another drink of his beer. “Chaos, huh! Ain’t that the gospel truth?”

It was a wonder that Pearl heard her phone in all the noise, but she fished it out of her purse and flipped it open.

“Darlin’, where are you?” Tommy asked.

“I’m at a party in Terral, Oklahoma,” she answered.

Wil frowned. Did she know every man this side of the Gulf of Mexico? A jealous streak shot through him. Austin had said she was the queen bee of party girls and all the phone calls he’d been privy to lately were proving that beyond the old shadow of a doubt. Was he wasting his time?

“Okay, tell Jasmine and all the girls hello. Kisses to you too, darlin’,” she said and flipped the phone shut.

“You know a lot of guys, huh?”

“
Knew
a lot of guys. In this part of the world, I know you, Raylen, Dewar, and Ace. Oh, and Rye, but I think Austin has him branded pretty solid.” She laughed.

Colleen giggled. “
Knew
is right. This lady had more energy than six women. Sometimes she had three dates lined up for one weekend. She’d dance on Friday night, rodeo on Saturday night, and on Sunday afternoon she’d wind down the weekend with a lunch date.” She set her empty bottle on the bar and pointed. “There’s Hart Avery comin’ in the door. I intend to go do some serious flirting. You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Pearl laughed. “That gives me a hell of a lot of wiggle room.”

Wil grinned. “Can I watch you wiggle?”

“There’s not room to wiggle in this house. I wonder why they chose to live on this side of the road?”

“Didn’t Austin tell you?” He leaned over and whispered, then brushed a kiss on her earlobe.

Her toenails curled and goose bumps popped up on her arms.

He picked up her hand and ran his thumb over the top. “Let’s go outside where it’s quieter and I’ll tell you.”

She shivered just thinking about sitting out in the chilly north wind. “It’s cold out there.”

“I can fix cold!”

“I bet you can but not on Austin’s porch.” The picture of just how good he would be at the job of fixing cold put high color in her cheeks.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I wasn’t suggesting that we have sex on the porch swing. See that quilt rack over there in the corner. We can bundle up and stay warm and I can actually hear you speaking. Bring your beer. I’ll even be a gentleman and come back inside and get you a drink when you finish that one.” He led the way across the room and picked up two quilts from a rack beside the door.

She followed and slipped out the front door right behind him. He held her beer while she wrapped up in one quilt like an oversized shawl. When she was comfortable in one corner of the porch swing, he handed the half-empty beer back to her. He settled in next to her and pulled the second quilt up over both of them like bed covers.

“So why are they living on this side of the road?” she asked.

“Rye says that Granny Lanier’s ghost wouldn’t let them have sex over at his place. They had a big old king-sized bed over there and… how long has it been since you were in this place?”

“Fifteen years or more,” she said.

“Remember what it looked like?”

“She liked stuff. I remember knickknacks sitting around everywhere.”

He didn’t answer so she looked up. He’d set his beer in the corner of the swing and cupped her face in his big hands. “I really did miss you,” he whispered as he claimed her lips.

It felt right and that scared the hell out of Pearl. A week of phone calls, a hamburger lunch, three roses, and a few kisses and she was ready to throw common sense in the nearest trash pile. What if he wasn’t the one? What if she fell hard and he left her heart lying on the ground in misery?

All the “what ifs” evaporated into the cold night air when he pulled her in close to his side and she snuggled into his warmth.

“Go on with the story,” she said.

“Rye says that the house was so full of stuff that you could barely get around in it, but even among all that nothing happened when they wanted to have sex. But over at his house was a different story. People came by; bulls got out of the pasture. All kinds of things. So Austin said that Granny had manipulated things so that they’d have to live on her side of the road. Austin wanted kids and you got to have sex to get them so that meant they had to live in this house.”

“He does still have his land over there, doesn’t he?” Pearl asked.

“Yes, he does. Felix, Austin’s hired help from Mexico, is getting legal papers to bring his family up here in the spring. They’re going to live in that house. The next year they hope to bring another family and put them in this house. By then their new place will be built on up the road half a mile.” Wil buried his face in her hair. “You look beautiful tonight, Red. I can see you all curled up in front of my fireplace in that outfit.”

“Fireplace? You’ve got a fireplace?”

“I do.” His lips settled on her neck and slowly found their way back to her mouth.

“Then why did you come all the way into town when your electricity went out? You could have started a fire in your living room.”

“I might’ve been warm in the living room but my bedroom is upstairs, and besides, that didn’t make enough light to read and it damn sure didn’t power up the television.”

“You could’ve slept on your sofa.” She needed conversation to keep her mind from drifting toward thoughts of the bed in the motel room and the way he’d looked that morning when the policemen came. Even in flannel pajama bottoms and boots he was sexy as hell.

“I could’ve done a lot of things, but I’m damn glad I came to town and got a room at your motel right next door to your apartment. You ready for another beer or would you rather have wine or a mixed drink?”

She settled into his shoulder again. Nothing could be wrong that felt so right. “One beer and one small glass of champagne at midnight is my limit.”

“Can’t hold your liquor, huh?” he teased.

She jerked her head up. Hold her liquor, indeed! Aunt Pearlita had damn sure left her more than a motel. She’d given her the genes to whoop man, woman, or professional at poker and hold her liquor better than any man. And then there was the gene pool on the maternal side of her family that could have put Aunt Pearlita to shame if there’d ever been a contest between the country and the city aunts when it came to drinking.

“I could drink you under the table any day of the week.”

Wil pulled her back into his embrace. “I don’t think so, darlin’.”

She settled in again. “Everyone knows Indians can’t hold their liquor. I’m Irish, German, and English. There’s no way you can outdo me in shots.”