Authors: Regina Carlysle
“Um. Yeah, I suppose.” There was no suppose about it. The way they’d been going at it, Nash would’ve had her jeans off in about three minutes flat if others hadn’t arrived when they did. What on earth had she been thinking? She didn’t fool around with temporary men. Cowboys in Sweetridge for the rodeo were off limits.
She walked up to Nash and settled a hand on his muscular, delicious back. “Nash?”
He turned and pierced her with his gaze. His mouth tightened. “Yeah?”
“I, um, I’d better go on home. The dancing was fun. I really had a good time.” Ah, man, how lame was that? A good time? The man had almost melted her bones and she tells him she had a good time? Heeding the warning bell that blasted through her brain, she stepped back, clutching her purse to her belly like a coward. “My ride’s leaving so I’d better go. Maybe I’ll see you again before you leave town.”
That sexy little muscle worked in his jaw again as his eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Maybe. Good night, Scarlet.”
And just like that he turned away dismissing her as so many other men in her life had done. Rage snapped through her veins, along with a hefty measure of hurt.
“Come on, ladies. Let’s move it on out,” she said, hating the snap in her voice. “See ya later, Nash.”
Like never.
Nash watched her leave with her friends as a feeling of loss settled low in his belly. Reaching up with one hand, he rubbed the center of his chest, right over his heart and struggled for control.
It was better this way. Things were getting out of hand in a hurry. Scarlet was a woman who needed a local man to make her forget about the shithead who’d dumped her, hurt her.
Gritting his teeth, he wondered what kind of idiot would throw away a magnificent woman like pretty, sassy Miss Ballew. It wasn’t hard to figure out how things were around here. If she lived in a big city somewhere, like maybe Dallas or Houston, she’d be better off. In a place like Sweetridge though, she’d stick out like a sore thumb and she had to intimidate the gutless wonders around here.
But he wasn’t a man to take advantage of anyone’s grief. Oh, yeah, he wanted her and had a monster-sized erection to prove it but she was a whole lot of trouble for a man who was just passing through. He wasn’t about to add to her pain.
“Pretty little thing,” Shorty commented with a nod of his head. Like Nash, he watched the tail-lights of a small compact car pull out of the parking lot and onto the street.
Nash looked at his old friend. Shorty had been traveling through American and sometimes Canadian cities with him since he’d begun his career. “Tell me about Princess.”
Shorty spit on the gravel and leaned back against the door of his truck. “Aw, doc says she’ll be okay in a day or so. He changed up her feed, added some vitamins. She always did have a touchy stomach.”
“Come on, then. Let’s go check on her.”
They arrived at the fairgrounds in record time, parked their trucks and wound their way through the myriad horse trailers to the stables. Despite the late hour, the place was hopping. The scent of hay and manure permeated the air along with the occasional colorful curse from cowboys who were giving their stock one last check before turning in.
Princess’ stall was in the third row about midway down and Nash stopped to rub the mare’s breathtakingly beautiful face. Her big eyes seemed dull tonight. “Ah, baby,” he crooned. “Bad tummy, huh.”
She snuffled an answer as he continued to stroke her red coat then brushed a hand over her black mane. Oh yeah, she was a beauty and one of his favorite cutting horses but she would sit this rodeo out. He wouldn’t take chances with her health.
“Guess you’ll be riding Big ‘un tomorrow.”
“Looks like it,” Nash said as he moved one stall over and clicked his tongue at the inky black gelding. Big ‘un snorted and tossed his mane before nosing Nash in the chest.
Nash responded with a quick stroke of his hand.
Shorty spit tobacco and reached into his front pocket for a piece of apple and held it out to the horse. “He’ll do you fine for the steer roping.”
“That’s one fine lookin’ animal.” When a familiar female voice called out, Nash looked up and saw Amy Sue Shoemaker, a barrel racer who hailed from Tulsa. She flashed a flirty grin and strutted his way. The pretty brunette looked like she’d been melted and poured into those tight jeans and she filled out the front of her t-shirt nicely. She’d been chasing his butt off for the past three months but Nash wasn’t biting.
Not only did he not get involved with the locals, he avoided sexual romps with the rodeo cowgirls, too. He preferred his sex during the off-season. Yeah, sometimes he fell off the denial-wagon but it wasn’t a habit with him.
“Ya’ll bout to call it a night,” she asked as she halted beside them.
Shorty cleared his throat and looked down at the toes of his worn boots, his face as red as a fire truck. “Um, yes ma’am.”
Surprise caught Nash at Shorty’s actions. He was sweet on Amy Sue! Leave it to Shorty to fall for a woman whose initials spelled ASS and not for the first time, he wondered what her parents had been smoking when they named her. Considering Shorty’s infatuation and the woman’s obvious interest in him, Nash thought it might be smart to get the hell out of Dodge.
“Yeah,” he said. “Better head on back to the hotel, get some sleep before the events tomorrow. Hope you have a good ride.”
Amy dimpled sweetly. “Thanks. You, too. ‘Night, Shorty.”
Shorty tipped his hat and the two of them left the stables and headed for their trucks. Both were staying at The Corral Hotel out on the interstate and within ten minutes were nursing cups of coffee at the Waffle House located across the parking lot from where they were bedding down.
The place was packed tonight. Bustling waitresses carried plates of breakfast and jotted down orders at record speed. The scent of frying bacon and coffee permeated the air. Chatter was loud, interspersed with the sounds of cutlery clinking as everyone got a bite to eat before turning in. Tim McGraw blasted from the juke box, advising everyone to Live Like You Were Dying.
“You talked with Mama Rose, yet?” Shorty asked as he sipped his black coffee.
“No, not tonight.” Nash doctored his own coffee with a hefty dose of cream and gave it a stir. “You?”
Shorty looked out the plate glass window toward the interstate. In profile, his overlarge nose was slightly hooked, his mouth was thin and, at the moment turned down. Not a handsome man by any stretch, but kind and very soft hearted when it came to Mama Rose. “Yeah, I called her before I came out to fetch you. I drove by the bakery on Main Street, you know, just passing some time and could’ve sworn I smelled homemade chocolate chip cookies. It made me think of her so I called.”
Nash shifted in the booth and smiled politely at the harried waitress who set down two heaping plates of food. They’d both ordered the Rancher’s Special of two eggs over easy, hash browns and sausage. Shorty had pancakes to go along with it and Nash wondered how any human could put away so much food.
They settled in to eat and after Nash doctored his coffee with a healthy dose of half and half, he bit into a flaky homemade biscuit slathered in butter. “So what’d she have to say?”
“Hell, she’s missin’ Big Daddy Buck something awful.”
Emotion welled in Nash’s throat and he took a quick sip of his scalding coffee. Big Daddy Buck Walters and his wife Rose had made a wonderful home for both of them when they’d been kids no one wanted. With three grown sons and an empty ranch house, they’d opened their hearts to troubled boys and given them a life. “Hard to believe we lost him about this time last year.” Nash shook his head as memories of the big, gruff rancher sifted through his mind. “It sure was sudden.”
Shorty shook his head. “Mama was always tellin’ him he needed to eat right, take better care of himself but he was stubborn.”
“So what’d she have to say?”
“She took in three more foster boys last week. One of ‘em has been in and out of juvie for the past few years.”
“Sounds like me. Trouble on the hoof.”
His old friend grinned. “You cleaned up pretty good, Nash. Man, you should’ve seen the look on that woman’s face out there in the parking lot! Lordy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hotter woman and she was sure as hell smokin’ for you.”
Just the mention of Scarlet had Nash shifting his gaze out the window. Damn. He couldn’t remember ever meeting a woman who turned him inside out the way she’d done. A dangerous woman to a guy’s peace of mind. It would take a truly confident man to take up with a woman like her. Smoking hot, independent, and smart.
He wanted her. No doubt about it.
After they’d eaten, Nash and Shorty parted ways and he went into the lonely motel room he’d call home for the next few days. It was like all the others containing only a king-sized bed and a miniscule closet that currently housed his shirts and jeans. Two extra pairs of boots set beneath everything in the small space. The room also featured a television, microwave, a small fridge, and a tiny coffee pot that wouldn’t satisfy the caffeine cravings of a mouse.
Nash flopped on the side of the bed and yanked off his boots tossing them with deadly accuracy toward the other boots in the doorless closet. His shirt and jeans were thrown into an empty corner. No underwear. Nash was a “commando” kind of guy who seldom bothered with it. Mama Rose would have his ass on a platter if she knew.
Naked he stretched out on the bed and flipped on the television. He wasn’t much of one for watching but the noise made the room seem less lonely. The Dirty Dozen was playing on one of the channels and he settled in to watch Lee and the boys blow up Nazis. It was one of his favorites. A real man’s movie.
By the time Big Jim Brown bought a bullet, he was bored and muted the sound of gunfire. He reached for his phone on the bedside table and dialed a familiar number.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Nash? That you, honey?”
“Yeah, calling from Sweetridge. Just got in.”
She laughed. “You and me always were night owls, weren’t we, boy?”
Mama Rose Walters was the only person on Earth who still called him “boy” and that was fine with him. Made him smile. Made him remember. “Been thinking about you. You doin’ okay?”
Over the phone, he heard her sigh. “Good. Really. I’m fine, sweetie. You boys all worry too much. Steve and Robert have both moved back to the ranch with their families and are running things just like Buck would’ve wanted.”
Steve and Rob were Buck and Rose’s two oldest boys and had taken over the ranch after their father’s heart attack. The youngest, Donnie, was a lawyer practicing in Reno and had no interest in ranching. “How do they feel about your boys?”
She laughed. “They know dang well I don’t give a rat’s behind what they think about it. I’ve been taking you boys in for too many years to count and I’m not about to stop now.”
At one time, Nash and Shorty had counted up to twenty foster boys the Walters family had taken into their home but then they lost track. As far as he knew, every single one of them remained close to Buck and Rose long after he’d left the ranch and become a man. Nash was no different.
“You feeling lonely, son?”
“Yeah, a little.”
Rose went quiet and he could almost hear the wheels turning in that sharp brain of hers. “Then why don’t you give up this rodeo stuff, honey? Come on back here and help my boys train cutting horses. You’re plumb gifted, Nash. Buck always said so.”
“I want my own place, Mama, you know that. I almost have the money and I’m planning to buy my own ranch soon. Just have to find the right spot. The Rocking R belongs to you and your sons. They’re good men and I’m not about to move in on their territory. I want something that belongs to me. Do you understand?”
He heard water running in the sink and knew she was probably in the kitchen filling up the coffee pot for the morning. The thought made him smile. “’Course I do, Nash. Everybody wants something to call their own. With you it was always a burning desire. You want a home, boy. You always have.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
After the call, Nash closed his eyes and thought of the dreams he’d built for himself when he’d become a man.
They were big dreams.
More than anything, he wanted to have a place somewhere, a ranch, where he could raise and train the cutting horses so essential to the working cowboy. He had a magic tough with the animals Big Daddy Buck had told him. But he wanted more than that, too.
He wanted a woman who loved him, kids. He wanted it all.
Rubbing his eyes, Nash stood and pulled down the bedspread and crawled between the crisp white sheets. She’d have to be strong, he thought, this woman who’d love him. Tough and resilient. Beautiful wouldn’t hurt, either. Nor would sexy-as-hell.
Closing his eyes, he sighed into the darkness as the vision of his dream woman appeared in his mind.
Funny. She looked a lot like Scarlet Ballew.
Chapter Three
Scarlet groaned when the morning sun filtered faintly through a crease in her white plantation shutters. Opening her eyes to the familiar sight of her neat little bedroom in her neat little house, she thought back to last night’s humiliation and groaned once more for good measure.
A nightmare.
Well, almost a nightmare. Cole’s actions had been reprehensible. The only thing that had saved her evening had been meeting the hottest, best dancin’, best kissing, cowboy this side of heaven. But then he’d gone and ruined everything by blowing her off.
Tossing off the covers, she padded toward the bathroom and turned on the water. She should count herself lucky she’d escaped when she had, because sure as shooting that man would’ve been in her britches before she could blink and this morning she’d be busy kicking her own butt instead of just wishing things could be different.
Scarlet took care of her teeth and ran a brush quickly through her hair before heading into the kitchen for that first cup of coffee. The scent of caffeine teased her and she’d just sat down at the kitchen table with a cup when there was a knock on the door.
Squinting at the clock on the microwave, noting the time, she realized she’d really slept late this morning. It was already after ten.
She opened the front door to see her mom, Della, standing there bold as brass, carrying a Tupperware cake container which she thrust into her arms.
“Morning, Mom.”
Della kissed her cheek and blasted through the front door like a Texas tornado. She headed straight for the kitchen. “Hey, honey. Don’t tell me you just got up. God. Is that coffee I smell? I’m gonna fix me a cup.”
Scarlet had learned long ago that her mom had a unique talent for answering her own questions quite nicely. “I’m on vacation. I’m well within my rights to be a slug while on vacation. In fact, I think it’s a law. What do you have here?”
She set the covered cake dish on the kitchen table while Della, a tall, dark haired beauty in her mid-fifties, poured herself a cup of coffee and doctored it up with cream. Della held up a pitcher shaped like a little white cow. The handle was formed from its curving ceramic tail and there was a hole in its nose where the cream came out. “Silliest darned thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You bought it.”
“Yeah, yeah. What was I smokin’?”
Scarlet laughed. Her mother was the straightest arrow she’d ever known. About as wild as she ever got was when she had a glass of wine or two on Christmas Eve.
“I love it. It’s whimsical.”
Her mom smiled and sat across from her at the table. Scarlet pried open the Tupperware lid and gasped, completely delighted. The scent of chocolate rose through the air mixing wonderfully with the homey coffee-smell of the kitchen. “Ah, Mom. A triple layer chocolate cake! Yum-my.”
“Made it this morning. Thought we’d have it with our coffee while you fill me in.”
Scarlet dipped a finger in the thick, creamy frosting and promptly stuck the digit in her mouth. Closing her eyes, she hummed a little, then went for two plates, two forks and a knife. “Fill you in on what? Oh, and what’s the occasion? Chocolate cake this early in the morning?”
Della tapped a fingernail on the oak table and gave her a look. Scarlet paused in the act of slicing through homemade decadence.
“Don’t tell me. You talked to somebody. You know already.” Scarlet put the knife down and sank into her chair. Banging her forehead on the table, she stretched out her arms and moaned. Her mother immediately took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Betty Murphy called first thing this morning.”
“I’m gonna kill Patti. What a blabber!”
Della tsked. “It doesn’t matter what Patti told her mama. It’s all over town, honey. That Cole makes me mad enough to spit! I’d like to head on over to his place and kick his butt good.”
Scarlet looked up at her mom and felt a vivid bolt of love pierce her heart. She stuck out her bottom lip. “So this is a pity cake?”
“Uh-huh. Made special for your pity party.”
“Hmm. Then I guess we ought to start this party.” Scarlet cut two humongous slices of fresh cake and served them up. She took a bite of thick, rich chocolate and felt her eyes roll back in her head. “Mmm. So good, Mom. You always know when I need a chocolate fix. Nobody makes this stuff like you do.”
Della laughed and took a bite. “Don’t kid yourself, honey. I know you think your mama’s perfect, and for the most part, I am, but you can cook me under the table.”
“That’s quite a compliment coming from you.”
Taking another sip of her coffee, her mother nodded her head. “Okay, now tell me all about it. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what went down but I’d like to hear your version. Everybody’s talking.”
“I knew this would happen. Nothing stays secret in this podunk town,” she said with a snort. “What’d Daddy say?”
Scarlet’s dad, Frank, was a big, tough, oil man who owned a prosperous drilling company. He didn’t take crap from anyone and he’d certainly take Cole down a peg or two for messing with his baby girl.
Della shook her head. “Oh, honey, you don’t wanna know what that man said. Burn your ears plumb off! He wanted to head over to Cole Thomas’ house and kick the crap outta that man.”
Unable to resist, Scarlet sighed. “I love my family.”
“Your little sister’s fit to be tied, too. Bless her heart, someone called her last night and she’s so mad she wants to come down from Lubbock just to make sure you’re okay.”
Annagrace, her baby sister, was a twenty-two year old junior at Texas Tech University and Scarlet loved her more than anything. “Tell her not to come, Mom. She has mid-terms coming up.”
“Oh, I did. Don’t you worry. You’re a big girl and this will blow over. Just like the other time. I don’t want you to forget that everyone loves you, punkin.”
“Yeah, I know. I figured the mess with Cole and the broken engagement was finally over, Mom, and then he has to make a big spectacle out of everything. I’m not in love with him anymore but I hate being embarrassed in front of the whole town this way.” Scarlet stood, fetched the coffee pot and poured them both a refill. “I’m tellin’ you, I’m sick of the whole man thing. I give up. It’s just not meant to be.”
Della laughed and tapped her fingernails on the table, a weird little habit that Scarlet was used to after all these years. “Listen up, cookie. It’s gonna take a really special man for you. You’re just so intimidating to most men.”
She rolled her eyes. “You, Patti-Pie, and Lyssa have been talking. Just last night, Lyssa said I was like a mean old bull named Intimidator.”
Her mother laughed. “That Lyssa’s a card. She’s right though.”
“I am not intimidating.”
“Oh, honey, you’re bigger than life. Tall and all sexy-looking with those long legs and everything else that goes with ‘em. Look at it like this… What if Pamela Anderson came to town?”
“Huh?”
“I’m serious. If that woman came to town, what would the local men do?”
Scarlet laughed. “They’d pee their pants.”
Della pointed at her. “That’s right. They’d pee their pants and do you think any one of those yay-hoos would say one word to her?”
“Probably not. But Mom, I’m not Pamela Anderson. These men have known me all my life.”
“You’re still an out there kind of woman. It’ll take a man who has great big ba-”
“Mom!”
“Well, great big ones anyway, to measure up to the kind of woman you are. You’re not for the faint of heart.”
“You make me sound like a horror movie.”
“You are pretty scary, baby.”
Scarlet rolled up her paper napkin and tossed it at her mother who caught it and used it to dab a crumb off the table. “Hey, Mom.”
Della looked up.
“I love you.”
“Yeah, baby, I know. Love you, too.”
Later she lounged on the overstuffed sofa in her living room and had her feet propped in her mother’s lap. Cotton balls were stuffed between each toe as Della applied Drumbeat Red with the precision of a military general. Scarlet still wore the oversized Texas Tech Red Raider jersey she’d slept in.
“I really love what you’ve done with this house, hon.”
Scarlet looked around at her pride and joy still recalling the day she’d signed off on the old Victorian. Hardwood floors glistened in the morning light that streamed through the big, lace-draped front windows. Outside was a huge wrap-around front porch and huge pots of blood red geraniums.
“It’s really too big for one person but I love it.”
“That’s apparent in the way you take care of it and hey, who knows, maybe someday some nice guy will move in here with you and you’ll give me a grandbaby or two. No pressure.”
Scarlet laughed. No one made her smile like Mom and she, for sure, needed a laugh today.
“Okay, other foot,” Della said as she reached for a wad of cotton on the coffee table. She went to work again, bent over her foot, absorbed in her task. Scarlet leaned her head back and closed her eyes, loving the attention from her favorite person in the world. “Now, are you gonna tell me about the man you met last night?”
Her eyes popped open. “What do you mean?”
Della shook her head. “Ah, honey, don’t play those games with me. We don’t live in a small town for nothing. Betty told me all about some cowboy you were hot and heavy with on the dance floor last night.”
Scarlet groaned. “His name is Nash Logan.”
“Oooh, sexy name.”
“Sexy man.”
“Do tell.”
She reached for her coffee cup and took a bracing sip. “We danced, Mom, and that’s about it.”
“Not what I heard.”
“Ah yes, well, he was just feeling sorry for me. Patti-Pie and Bobby Lee shot off their big mouths and he heard the whole story about Cole and the fact that he’s a horn-dog. We were dancing when Cole popped up on the stage to make his big announcement. It was crazy.”
“So, hm, how did it feel kissing him? A complete stranger.”
Scarlet looked at her mother calmly painting her toes and didn’t notice any recrimination. Not a bit. That was weird. She sighed and leaned her head back against the cushions.
“Electrifying.”
“That good, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. And then when he realized we were making a spectacle of ourselves, he dragged me out to the parking lot and started the whole kissing thing again.”
Della moved her foot away and sat up to screw the lid on the polish. Leaning forward, she propped her forearm on her knee and looked at her. “You gonna see him again?”
She shrugged. “I doubt it. His friend showed up and he got all distracted and just kind of blew me off. Anyway, it’s for the best. He’s here for the rodeo. In a couple of days, he’ll be off for another town and I’ll be here. It doesn’t make any sense to get something started.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We never know about these things, Scarlet,” she said. “But what’s wrong with enjoying the man while he’s here? There’s no law that says you can’t have some fun for a change.”
Aghast, she stared at her mother. “Are you suggesting I have a mindless affair with him?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far but a little fun sure wouldn’t hurt you. If you approach the whole thing as an adventure, knowing in your mind it’s all temporary, you might find something very freeing in that.” Della stood and reached for her purse. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and gave her a look. “Listen, hon, you’re young and pretty, full of life. Believe me, one of these days you’ll have so many responsibilities there won’t be time for fun. Now is the time to spread your wings. Sorry if I sound like a cliché but that’s the way I feel about it. If this man wants to spend time with you, I say you should let him.”
Later that day, Scarlet recalled her mother’s words and promptly decided that Mom was right. When had she not gone for what she wanted? Why shouldn’t she live a little while she could? Sure, it was dangerous getting involved even temporarily with a man like Nash Logan, but how often did a woman living in a place like Sweetridge get a chance to have a little romance with a man like him?
As she pulled into the fairground parking lot and noted the crowds heading toward the arena, she double checked her purse. Yep. There was the ticket Nash had given her last night. She pulled out a tube of gloss and applied a dab of it to her lips. What was she thinking? With all these people around what were the chances of running into him?
Still, better to see him here than stalk the honky tonk hoping he’d show up. That just seemed sleazy, slutty, and more than a little pathetic. Nope, not going there. Earlier she’d called Patti and Lyssa hoping one of them, or both, might be able to come with her today. Patti had a date with the wannabe cowboy she’d met last night. As it turned out, Scott was a pretty nice guy and had asked her to the rodeo today. Unfortunately, Lyssa had to work so here she was, alone.
Bolstering her courage, she tugged the shoulder strap of her oversized purse in place and took off toward the ticket gate, her red cowboy boots tapping out a sharp staccato against the pavement. Today she wore a pair of low slung jeans that had survived a hundred washings, a western-style belt with a turquoise buckle, and a red, fitted tee. Too hot today for the long sleeved western shirts some of the other ladies were wearing. She didn’t know how they could stand it.