In the Lyrics (7 page)

Much to my surprise, I see Hensley wearing jeans, a tank top, and boots, holding a spatula in one hand and a bowl of some sort of white mixture in the other. She must have noticed the smile that spread on my face when I saw her, because she starts to glare in my direction.

“It’s a breakfast truce,” she mumbles while trying not to make eye contact with me.

Taking a seat on one of the wooden bar stools in front of the small island on wheels, I grab one of the two empty cups sitting on the counter and fill it with orange juice from the pitcher sitting next to them. After gulping down my first cup, I pour another.

“Thirsty much?” Her voice breaks the silence.

Short and to the point I whisper, “Yes, ma’am,” with a small nod of my head. She made it bluntly clear yesterday she isn’t interested in getting to know me, and as much as I want to get to know her, I know there are some boundaries I won’t cross. Pushing or forcing her to talk to me is one of them. So I sit quietly enjoying my fresh juice.

“Look, Colby, this…” she waves her only free hand around the small area around her in the air. “This is my way of apologizing for being a wench yesterday. I don’t know much about you or where you come from, but I do know that I was out of line. So I hope you enjoy your bacon-covered pancakes and can forgive me. After all, it doesn’t look like either one of us is going anywhere.” She rolls her eyes as she finishes her sentence. It irks me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her tan shoulders shrug. We both know it was a cheap jab, and I know exactly what it means. She’s hoping I’ll be intimidated and leave. Well, she is dead wrong. As much as I enjoy her little mood swings…
not
… and groveling behavior this morning, I’m not going anywhere for a while.

Choosing to ignore her comment, I hope to make a point that I’m not falling victim to her games. Maybe she is one of those play-hard-to-get type girls. I’m not sure, but nonetheless while she is attractive and sings like an angel, I didn’t come here to find love. I came here to make my dreams come true. On the other hand, I did wake up with a stiffy just from the idea that she was sleeping in such close proximity. My head silently spins from the competing thoughts running rampant in my brain as she leans over the counter and places a plate stacked high with pancakes in front of me. My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath. I don’t know if it’s the scent of her glossy lips or the syrup that smells sweeter.

A few strands of hair fall over her eye, blocking her line of vision. She reaches to brush them away as the sight of a silver ring grabs my attention. It’s a purity ring. I recognize it immediately because a lot of girls back home have them. While most of them only wear them to appease their families, I doubt Hensley is a fake. A fake virgin – how lame does that sound? My throat feels dry.
Hensley is a virgin.
So far she hasn’t let off anything that would make me think that. She is snarky and foul mouthed, at least that’s what I’ve gathered from the time I’ve known her. Which hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. But a virgin? I’m shocked, to say the least. After all, if it’s not her looks that would entice a man, it’d be her standoffish attitude. I mean, everyone wants what they can’t have, but yet there seems to be something more to her. Something deeper.

Hensley is like a jigsaw puzzle. Just from looking at the box on the outside, it appears easy. You think, “I could put this together in no time,” when really, once you open the box and take a glance inside, there are so many tiny pieces. The reality is the little project you thought would take a mere hour to complete is way more complex than you realized. The only problem is I’m normally not a patient person, but with Hensley I could see myself sitting for hours, maneuvering her pieces, until they fit in place and the picture is complete. Her being a virgin is just a small piece of the puzzle. It’s the bigger picture I just don’t see yet, the reasons behind her decision to stay pure. Not that I’m not ecstatic. It’s every man’s dream to be with a virgin. Not in the sexual innuendos way, but in the way that she saved herself for so long and is giving you that gift. I want to be the one to unwrap her gift. I want her to give it to me, and yet I barely even know her.

She doesn’t notice my sudden change in demeanor as I tilt my body to adjust myself in my pants. I’m only a man – a Southern man with a beautiful Southern woman standing in front of me, a gorgeous, talented one at that. Come on, you can’t blame my wandering mind for that one.

“I’m not trying to be rude. I know why you came here. My dream’s to make it big someday too. I’ll try to lighten up on you.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” My voice sounds like I’m a thirteen-year old boy who just hit puberty as it cracks from me trying to talk and swallow the news of her purity all at once.

“Eat up before your breakfast gets cold. I don’t know if you’ll like ‘em, but they’re pancakes with bits of fresh bacon sprinkled in the batter. They’re my favorite breakfast food.” She is putting forth an effort and seems less bitchy today. I sure hope so because her mood swings were starting to give me whiplash.

We both eat in a comfortable silence, and strangely her weird pancake concoction wins me over. Who would have ever thought of bacon in the batter? The softness of the pancake mixed with the salty bacon is like heaven dancing on my tongue.

“I’m going to pick up this mess and then head to the stables if you want to come. I mean, I know you’re probably busy with unpacking and all, but I figured I’d ask since Dusty will be gone the majority of the day.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice he wasn’t here.” Of course I didn’t. Hensley’s had my full attention, well, since I got up. “Where’d he run off to so early?”

“He tutors some local kids at the Boys and Girls Club in town.” A smile crosses her face, and I know she is deeply proud of her best friend.

“That’s awesome. I’d actually like to get in on that if they need more volunteers.”

Looking shocked, Hensley’s eyes widen, “You would? I didn’t picture you as the type. I mean most
real
cowboys around here are too busy preparing for the summer’s big rodeo.”

My ears perk up. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Y’all have a local rodeo?”

“Yup. Mostly it’s some dumb kids we went to high school with farting around. I mean, no one has even held on longer than eight seconds, ever. So it’s not a real rodeo. Just something we put on at the county fair. Why, you interested?”

“I may be, but I want to learn more about this volunteer thing. I have a soft spot for children.” I don’t explain myself. She isn’t ready to hear my sad story, and I’m even less ready to tell it.

“Really, cowboy? Well, how about you help me clean up this mess and tag along with me today. I’ve got something for you to see.”

“Sounds good.” Standing up, I stack our plates on top of one another and place them in the sink. “You wash, I’ll dry?”

Nodding, Hensley takes a step closer to me. Her tanned arm brushes mine as she reaches to turn on the nozzle. Steam and water from the faucet run out of the spout and onto my hands that are carefully placing the dirty dishes into the sink.

Laughing, Hensley moves the faucet head over to my side of the divided sink. “You might want to wash and I’ll dry.” Her smile stays set on her perfectly plump lips, instead of drooping into a frown. It’s nice and seems genuine. Maybe she really has turned over a new leaf.

Once we finish putting the dishes away, Hensley looks me up and down, not even trying to hide her glance. “Do you like what you see?” I taunt. I couldn’t help it, by her facial expression she looked like she wanted to eat me.

“Actually I don’t, if we’re being honest. Where we’re going you’re going to need to be in something a little more durable than a pair of sweats. You might wanna change.”

After agreeing that I wouldn’t be going anywhere in my gym clothes, I go back to my room and change.
Something more durable
…throwing on a pair of Wrangler jeans, a white cotton T-shirt, a baseball cap, and my trusty Ariat boots, I’m ready in under three minutes. On the way out of my room I stop in front of my dresser, rub a stick of deodorant under each of my arms and spray a squirt of cologne across my chest.

I walk back into the living room and see Hensley standing in front of a mirror applying some sort of lip balm. Her lips are so full, you’d think they could have been injected, but nope...they aren’t. I can tell she isn’t one of those prissy girls. Not like Brittani…I wouldn’t put it past her to have fake lips, or fake everything.

Giving me a demure smile in the mirror, it seems as if the mean girl I met only yesterday has disappeared and has been replaced with a pleasanter version of herself. I don’t know what happened or why she’s had a sudden attitude change, but I’m starting to like this side of her better. I think it’s the real Hensley, the girl without the mask, the girl that I’m slowly starting to enjoy being around. But it’s only day two, and a lot can change in a summer’s time.

I’M NOT TOO proud to admit I was acting like a pompous ass yesterday. I actually had a whole speech prepared about how sorry I was, hoping he could forgive me for being crazy and we could move forward. But as soon as I caught a glimpse of him walking down that damn hallway with messy hair and a giant smile spread across his perfect face, I became annoyed with him again.
What is it about those damn dimples that renders me speechless and irritates me?
I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s like being around him brings out the giddy schoolgirl in me at the same time as the raging bitch that hides in my soul. She’s just lurking around the depths of my cold heart, waiting to come out and pounce. And what do ya know? She shows her ugly, little head every time he is around.

Truthfully, I think it’s my way of pushing him away. For some reason, yesterday, before we even had our formal introductions, there was something about him. The stranger staring at me from amongst the crowd, he grabbed my attention, and since that moment, he’s had it. I think it’s like the mind’s mechanism of protecting itself, but it’s more myself watching out for my heart. Maybe my brain knows something I don’t yet, or maybe I know it and just refuse to admit it. Not falling for Colby Grant is going to be my biggest fight yet. One moment I feel like it’s one I wouldn’t mind losing, and the next I’m reminded that he would be just another person tying me to this town and I can’t let that happen. I won’t get stuck here.

We eat and then I fill him in on Dusty’s whereabouts. The strange part is he actually seems interested in what Dusty is doing and even asks if they need anyone else as a volunteer. I’ve never known a man to look so intense and overjoyed about helping others. I can’t lie, my heart did one of those annoying little fluttering thingies.
Dammit.
He even agreed to come with me today, before I even explained where we were going, so now we’re climbing into Betsy and heading towards the farm.

“ARE YOU SURE you want to drive? I mean, I honestly don’t mind to.” He thumbs backwards towards his truck before he reluctantly shuts the passenger side door of my car.

The sound of Betsy rattling on her hinges makes me chuckle and reminds me I need to have Dad put some WD40 on her.
I love my car, rattling and all.
“No, it’s fine. You’ve been driving for days, and you don’t know where we’re going, and I am super bad with directions. Plus your keys are inside and we’re already sitting.”
Am I honestly rambling? What has gotten into me?
Wait, don’t answer. I already know what and he’s sitting like six inches away.

“You don’t seem like the kind of gal that’s bad at anything.”

There goes that damn fluttering again.
Clearing my throat, I mumble, “Trust me, the more you get to know me, the more things you’ll learn I’m bad at.”

“Name one.” He smirks. What does he think – I’m not bad at anything? And who is he to make those kinds of assumptions about me anyhow?

“Well, for starters, I can’t fish,” I tell him, which isn’t a lie. Dusty and my dad have taken me on one of their little trips several times. For some reason I always come back empty-handed. It’s like I’m cursed or something.