Red's Hot Cowboy (17 page)

“Is that a challenge?”

Despite what experts said, some small people could definitely hold their liquor better than big people. Aunt Katy said it had to do with the boobs. It all went in there before it hit the brain, so Pearl could hold a hell of a lot more than it looked like she could.

“It is not a challenge. It is a fact. Don’t push it and you won’t get embarrassed.”

Wil chuckled. “It’s not a fact until it’s proven. You want to prove it?”

“Anytime, cowboy!” She wished she would’ve eaten the words rather than spit them out.

He finished off his beer and set the empty bottle on the porch floor. “So I get to choose time and place?”

“Like I said, anytime.”

“What are you thinkin’ about? How to cheat?” he asked.

“I was thinking about Aunt Katy, and I do not cheat. I don’t have to. I’m Irish.”

“What about Aunt Katy?” he asked.

“How she’d be disappointed in me if I disgraced her name by letting you win. That old girl could drink enough to float the
Titanic
. Then she could whoop all the other southern ladies in Savannah, Georgia, at bridge—and that was playing for dollars on the point—on Sunday afternoon after church services. After which she could gargle with Listerine and make Sunday night services down at the Baptist church without the preacher even knowing that she’d had a drop of anything stronger than lemonade all afternoon. She said she had to have a few drinks to win, and she always tithed on her winnings so the Good Lord turned an eye the other way.”

He leaned back and cocked his head to one side. “You won’t cheat. It needs to be a fair fight.”

“I don’t cheat, but I will not let you win so you don’t whine around like a pissy little girl. I’d hate to face Aunt Katy if I did.”

Using his fist, he tipped her chin up and kissed her again and it still felt right even when they were arguing.

“When are we going to do this?” he asked.

“Like I said, anytime,” she murmured breathlessly. One more sizzling kiss and she’d forget about booze and challenge him to a game of strip poker. And she would definitely win. She’d still be dressed and he’d be showing her what was hiding under those jeans.

“Okay, then I choose tonight.”

“I’m not getting drunk at Austin’s party!”

“You said anytime.”

“That does not include Austin’s party.”

“Okay then, we’ll stay here until after the stroke of midnight and then start shots back at your place.”

She pushed a hand outside the quilt. “Deal. But not at my apartment. We’ll use one of the empty motel rooms. That way when you pass out cold I can leave you in the room and go on back to my own bed.”

He shook her hand firmly and then raised it to his lips to plant a kiss on the palm. “What if I’m the last one standing?”

She didn’t even know the palm of the hand was on the list of erogenous zones mentioned in the magazines, but it should be. “There are two beds in each room. Don’t drive drunk if I pass out before you do, and don’t try anything funny.”

“I don’t take advantage of women, especially drunk ones, and I do not hit them. That latter is just for the record. I’m a grown man, but either one of those things would bring down the wrath of my momma and, darlin’, even angels are not brave enough to face off with Momma when she’s angry. Now let’s change the subject before we get into a real argument. Tell me about that trouble you were always getting Austin in when you were kids.”

“You ever been to Vegas?”

He cut his eyes around at her. “I got this belt buckle at the Professional Bull Riders Finals in Vegas. Why are you asking? You are changing the subject to keep from answering me, aren’t you? I’ll ask again when you are too looped not to give me a straight answer.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t take advantage of women.”

“Let me clarify that. I do not take sexual advantage of women. But if I ask a question and you are too drunk to keep your mouth shut then that’s not taking advantage. It’s making conversation. Why did you ask about Vegas anyway?”

“Darlin’, the sayin’ is ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ What went on when we were kids stays on the banks of the Red River.”

Wil’s chuckles turned into laughter. Pearl could probably tell a full-grown man to go straight to hell and make him look forward to the trip.

Austin poked her head out the door. “What’s so funny out here?”

“Pearl just said that what happened when you two were little girls stayed on the banks of the Red River.”

“And that’s so funny why?” Austin asked.

Pearl motioned for her to join them on the other end of the swing. “It was one of those you’d-have-had-to-be-here things. Hey, did you ever wonder what kind of trouble we would have gotten into if we’d known about the watermelon wine?”

Austin pulled the last quilt from the rack and wrapped it around her shoulders before shutting the door. She sat down on the porch steps rather than joining them on the swing. “Can you imagine what your aunt and my granny would have done to us if we’d have found that wine? You’d have been cleaning rooms and I’d have been hoeing watermelons until the angels came to take our souls to heaven. It would’ve been worth every bit of it though, wouldn’t it?”

Pearl nodded. “Or else they’d have taken us to church and gotten us saved, sanctified, and dehorned.”

“Savin’ and sanctifyin’ us would have been as likely as St. Peter setting up a snow cone stand inside the front gates of hell. Speakin’ of cleanin’ rooms, how are things going over at the Longhorn? How’s your hired lady working out?”

“Great. She even cleans the doorjambs and the light fixtures. I’ve never seen anyone who can work as fast and perfect as Lucy. I hope she stays forever.”

Austin stood up and headed for the door. “Y’all can stay out here and freeze your butts off if you want to, but I’m going back inside where it’s warm.”

“Before you go, maybe you could tell this Indian brave that he’s about to embarrass himself,” Pearl said.

Austin looked down at Wil.

“He thinks he can out-drink me,” Pearl said.

Austin frowned. “Whiskey or vodka?”

“Her choice,” Wil said.

“Whiskey. Jack Black,” Pearl said.

“Shot for shot? Can I watch?” Austin asked.

“Sure. You can be the referee,” Pearl said.

“When?”

“Tonight. In one of my motel rooms. That way when he passes out he can sleep it off in a room and I can go on to my bed. Colleen says that friends don’t let friends drive drunk.”

“Oh, no! I’m not leaving my handsome husband’s side to watch you two play king of the shots. Call me tomorrow and tell me how it turns out, and Wil, you have met your match. When it’s over, she’ll be staggering but you’ll be passed out so you won’t know what happened. Pearl, promise me that you won’t paint his toenails while he’s drunk.”

Pearl frowned. “Ahh, shit, you ain’t supposed to tell what happens if I win.”

Austin narrowed her eyes into slits. “Promise.”

“Oh, okay. No blushing pink or red devil fingernail polish. Does that mean I can’t pluck his eyebrows either?”

Austin nodded. “Or cut his hair or wax your initials in the middle of his chest.”

“I promise.” Pearl pouted.

Austin slipped inside the door then poked her head out again, “Or dye his hair?”

Pearl sighed. “You really must like Wil a lot. You never made me make promises like that before. I promise I will leave him, his body hair, and his fingernails and toenails alone while he is passed out in my motel.”

How in the world had she gotten herself into a pissing contest with Wil Marshall anyway? She was thirty years old, not twenty-one and barely legal. Come to think of it, that was the last time she got slap drunk and even then she didn’t pass out. She’d rather spend the whole night cuddled up in Wil’s arm under a quilt. Could she change his mind with a few long, sexy kisses?

Probably not, since the gauntlet had been thrown and Austin even knew about it. Thank God for Lucy! She’d clean the rooms the next morning while Pearl ate aspirin like M&Ms and held her aching head. But she wouldn’t hurt as badly as Wil, and he’d have to go home to the ranch and feed bawling cows, clucking chickens, and listen to Digger howl.

“You got a bottle of Jack?” he asked.

“I do. How about you?”

“I brought one but Rye had one already opened so I left mine in the truck. We can drink it until it’s gone, and if you are still standing then we’ll start on yours.”

Women who could hold their liquor didn’t appeal to him. He put them in the same basket with low-down trailer trash and pure old hookers. Pearl was neither of those. She was a lady just like her Aunt Pearlita, so why was she acting like that? And had she really, really painted some fool’s toenails while he was passed out? She sounded like a wild party girl instead of the responsible businesswoman who didn’t even want to leave her help in charge of the motel.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said.

“You doubting me or you?”

Deep down she knew better than to play with fire, but suddenly it was imperative that she not stagnate in a world of numbers, classes, and cleaning rooms. She needed the excitement that night of a pissing contest and Wil was not going to win.

“You think you can win this fight, don’t you?” she asked.

“I know my ability, but it’s been a long time since I set out to prove that I was better at shots than anyone else, especially a woman. But if you insist on this, I can damn sure show you that I’m the boss,” he said.

She might have backed down if he hadn’t said “especially a woman.” Those words were like kerosene tossed on an open bonfire. The flash could be seen in her green eyes as clearly as if there had been an explosion right there on the porch swing.

“I’m thirty years old and tonight I will prove that ‘especially a woman’ is going to make you eat crow.”

“What in the hell has got your dander up? What did I do wrong?” Wil slid over a few inches. He hadn’t meant to make her angry. Hell, they’d been having a wonderful time until the idea of drinking came up. All the flirting and phone calls had said that she was interested in him, like he was her. Now he was getting mixed signals.

“You got my dander up, darlin’,” she said sarcastically.
Especially a woman,
indeed!

“Don’t call me darlin’ in that tone. It sounds downright dirty. And since you’ve got a burr up your cute little butt, why wait until midnight? Let’s go take care of this right now. Hell, I’ll be home and asleep when the New Year comes in and you’ll be snoring on a bed,” Wil said.

“Just let me get my coat.”

“Honey, I’ll get it for you. The dark green one with the gold buttons, right?”

“Don’t call me honey in that tone. It sounds like you are cussin’ me.”

The parking lot was totally empty when Pearl parked in front of the lobby. Wil nosed his truck in beside her Caddy and waited while she went inside to pick up a room key from Lucy. He should wait until they were in the room, call the whole thing off, and see where a few of those steamy hot kisses would lead.

She dreaded the contest, but she’d made her brag and now she’d have to pay the fiddler. She had no doubts that she could out-drink Wil Marshall, but she also held no half-assed notions that it would be an easy feat or that tomorrow morning she wouldn’t have a full-fledged head-banging hangover.

“What are you doin’ home so early? It’s not even nearly midnight yet.” Lucy looked up from the computer. “Guess what? They had a memorial service for me. I’m dead. Cleet had a few words to say about how he couldn’t understand why I’d commit suicide. My sister said it was because I never got over losin’ that baby. Kinda strange, readin’ your own funeral thing from the newspaper.”

Pearl leaned on the countertop. Whiskey shots could wait a few minutes. “You lost a baby recently?”

“Not recently. Three months after me and Cleet married. I was sixteen and pregnant. He was twenty. He married me and three months later got drunk and beat me so bad I lost the baby. It was a girl and I was glad she didn’t have to grow up and get whooped on. I made sure there wasn’t no more pregnancies. Cleet didn’t know that I went to the health department and got pills.”

“You all right?” Pearl asked.

“I left it all behind me. My family, my momma, all of it. I’m not sorry. Never will be. You want to take over or let me finish up until closing time?”

“I got a bet goin’ with Wil Marshall. That fool thinks he’s better at shots than I am so we’re going to have a fact-proving test.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed and she cocked her head to one side. “What are you goin’ to shoot at? Can you do that this close to town? You goin’ to use a rifle or a pistol?”

Pearl smiled. “Not that kind of shot. Whiskey shots. I told him I’m Irish and I can drink him under the table any day of the week. So I need the key to room two. That way when I get the job done and come on home to my apartment I won’t have to listen to him snoring.”

“Room two is already full up. We’ve got eight customers in all. They’ve all gone to parties, I guess. They checked in, stayed in their rooms a little while, and then come out and left. I’d take number ten if I was you. It’s on the end and there’s nobody next to it. You really think you can out-drink a man big as him?”