Trouble in Texas (21 page)

“Now why would that be? Unless…”

“You’re probably right about Buddy Holly,” Elizabeth said, completely unaware that
a fight was about to break out. “There are a lot of men’s names in here.”

That got Beau’s attention. “Does Miss Hattie go into detail about what happened with
those men?” he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. The only thing she goes into detail about is the weddings.
It seems that a lot of the hens got married. Which I guess makes sense given the fact
that the men outnumbered the women twenty to one.”

Right now two to one was too many for Brant.

“So Miss Hattie’s was a little like
Match.com
?” Beau said.

Elizabeth laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

It was hard to think when Elizabeth laughed. When
she laughed, the stern lines of her face softened, and she looked all womanly and
approachable. All Brant wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss those upside-down
lips.

“Well, we shouldn’t play up that angle too much,” Beau said. “The men who come here
will want to get away from marriage talk. Which brings up the reason I came outside
in the first place. I was talking with the hens, and we think we should have ourselves
a celebratory dinner tonight. Baby has some t-bones, and Minnie said she could dig
up some champagne. Of course, we’ll have to talk Elizabeth here into staying.”

“I really couldn’t, Beau,” Elizabeth said. “I need to get home and feed Atticus.”

It would probably be best if Elizabeth went back to Bramble. There was something about
her that turned Brant into an adolescent idiot. The next thing he knew he’d be locating
a skateboard and trying to “catch some air.” But instead of leaving well enough alone,
he jumped on Beau’s bandwagon.

“It wouldn’t be much of a celebration without the owner of Miss Hattie’s,” he said.
“Besides, I think I gave your cat enough food this morning to last him a while.” He
didn’t know why he’d brought up the fact that he’d been at Elizabeth’s house that
morning. Maybe he wanted Beau to know. And maybe he wanted Elizabeth to remember.
Either way, it was about as ill-bred as he could get.

“Then it’s settled.” Beau got to his feet. “I’ll just run in and tell the hens to
set another place.”

Brant probably should’ve followed after his brother. Instead, he took Beau’s place
on the hammock. Except his boots slipped out from under him, and he fell down into
the hammock so hard he almost bounced Elizabeth off the other end. He reached out
to keep her from falling off and, once his hands closed around her arms, he couldn’t
help pulling her close.

She did smell good. Like the soap in her shower and lilacs. Or maybe the scent of
lilacs came from the garden. He had wanted to talk more about the journal. But when
she looked up at him, he forgot all about the past and only cared about the present.

As usual she wore no makeup, her skin smooth and slightly blushed. Her lips were pressed
together in a stern line, but that didn’t stop his head from dipping closer for a
taste.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth wasn’t as cooperative as she had been the night before.

She placed a hand on his bare chest and pushed him back. “What are you doing, Brant?”

He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “Is it that hard to figure out?”

She pulled away. “I realize I’m naïve about relationships, but I thought we both decided
that last night was more of an accident. You were in my bed, and we just sort of…”
She let the thought trail off. “And if that’s the case, then why are you trying to
kiss me now?”

It was a good question. One he had been trying to avoid all day. But staring into
her direct, honest eyes, he realized he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“Because, Beth,” he reached out and smoothed the wayward strand of hair from her eyes,
“I’ve discovered that one night wasn’t enough.”

“M
Y UNCLE LETS ME HAVE A GLASS OF WINE
at Thanksgiving,” Starlet grumbled when Baby handed her a glass of Sprite.

“This ain’t Thanksgiving, Short Stuff,” Minnie said. “There’ll be plenty of time to
drink when you’re older.” She glanced over at Beau who stood at the bar in The Jungle
Room pouring champagne. “And plenty of time for men.”

Starlet looked confused. “But isn’t that what…?”

Minnie shook her head in disgust. “Greenhorns.” She held up her champagne glass. “To
Miss Hattie’s. May it be a sparkling oasis of love in the dry desert of life.”

Elizabeth held up her glass and clinked it with the others, trying to ignore the man
who sat next to her on the zebra-skinned couch. It was impossible. Especially when
he sat so close that she could smell the scent of his spicy soap and feel the crisp
starch of his shirt every time he leaned up to talk with Beau. And maybe it wasn’t
his proximity that bothered her as much as his words, which bounced around in her
head like the pinball in the machine at Bootlegger’s Bar.

I’ve discovered that one night wasn’t enough.

It was an underhanded thing to say. Especially when up until that point, Elizabeth
had been doing so well. Regardless of how fluttery her stomach felt and how much her
pulse rate increased whenever he was around, she had been able to keep her emotions
hidden. She’d gotten through breakfast without a hitch and had almost made it through
the day at Miss Hattie’s. Which was quite a feat since every time she looked up there
was some other temptation to resist.

Brant’s butt in a pair of soft worn jeans. The muscles of his back flexing beneath
the cotton of his shirt. The breathtaking flesh he revealed when he stripped off his
shirt.

But how in the heck did a woman ignore those words?

And how in the heck did a man say those words and then just move on as if nothing
had happened?

All through dinner, he’d chatted with Beau and Minnie about plans for remodeling,
tried to convince Starlet that college was a good backup plan for a singer, and asked
Sunshine about what it was like growing up in the sixties. Elizabeth had just sat
there staring at Brant like Starlet was staring at Beau—sort of like he was the second
coming.

After the third bottle of champagne had been emptied, Baby suggested karaoke, and
everyone took turns getting up and singing their favorite song—most quite badly. The
only ones who didn’t remind Elizabeth of nails scraping down a chalkboard were Baby
and Brant.

Baby had pulled Brant up for a jazz duet of “Summer-time,” and Brant’s singing voice
turned out to be as deep and rich as his speech. But he didn’t showboat. After only
one chorus, he handed the microphone off to Minnie, who finished the song in an off-key
voice that was almost as bad as Starlet’s. But Elizabeth enjoyed listening to bad
singers much more than she enjoyed Beau pulling her up on stage.

All her life, Elizabeth had hated being the center of attention. She couldn’t sing,
was too clumsy to dance, and too shy to act. So she just stood there and blushed as
Beau got on one knee and sang a country love ballad with a thick, exaggerated twang.

Fortunately, Brant stopped him in mid-song.

“I think we’ve all had enough singing for one night, little brother,” he said as he
took Elizabeth’s hand from Beau. “Why don’t you put on something slow, Baby, and I’ll
see if I still remember how to waltz.”

Brant remembered quite well. Unlike Beau, he moved in a graceful glide that put Elizabeth’s
dancing to shame.

“I like the jeans,” he said.

She stared at the tiny smattering of dark hair that showed above the collar of his
shirt and cleared her throat. “Thank you. I borrowed them from Miss Hattie’s closet.
Although I would assume that they belonged to another hen.”

His hands slipped down to her waist, and he hooked his thumbs under the worn belt
loops, leaving his fingertips to brush the top swell of her hips. “Possibly, but Levi’s
have been around for a while so you never know. Hattie seemed like the type of woman
who enjoyed slipping into something snug and comfortable.”

Elizabeth stumbled, and he pulled her closer.

“The key,” he breathed against the top of her head, “is to trust your partner completely.
Do you trust me, Elizabeth?”

She looked up from her feet and into a pair of mischievous blue eyes. “Are we talking
about dancing?”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

“You didn’t this afternoon.”

He released his breath. “I apologize for being so blunt. It’s just that I don’t exactly
know how to handle you.”

The words snapped her out of her euphoric state, and she stumbled to a stop. “Excuse
me?”

“Maybe ‘handle’ isn’t exactly the word,” he said. “What I’m trying to say is that
naïve virgins aren’t my specialty.”

Elizabeth went from only slightly mad to furious so quickly she felt light-headed.
“Are you saying that you handle worldly sluts better?”

His eyebrows popped up. “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He tried to guide
her back into the dance, but she flat-out refused.

“Then what are you saying, Brant?” she said. “Because call me a naïve virgin, but
I’m just not getting it.”

“Would you keep it down,” he whispered as he looked back at the bar, where Beau was
entertaining the hens with some story. “I’d rather not have everyone in on our relationship.”

“What relationship? Didn’t we just decide this morning that we don’t have a relationship?
And then not more than four hours later, you were telling me that one night wasn’t
enough.”

“You should talk.” He glared down at her. “You didn’t mind cuddling up next to me
all night like your damn cat, but in the morning, the cuddly kitten had turned into
a prudish prig.”

Her eyes widened. “A prudish prig? And I was not
cuddled up next to you,” she said. “Your big-assed body takes up the entire bed.”
The cuss word surprised them both, but Brant was the one who recovered more quickly.

“Then I guess I’ll take my big-assed body and leave you alone.” He turned and yelled
at Beau. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

Beau shook his head. “You snore worse than our old Labrador Honey. I’ll crash down
here on the couch.”

Brant nodded and, without looking at Elizabeth, headed back toward the elevator. She
might’ve mentioned the hidden stairway if she hadn’t been so mad. Stomping over to
the bar, she joined the party and even downed two more glasses of champagne. She soon
discovered that she was a sullen drunk, for instead of enjoying Beau’s humorous stories,
she just sat at the bar and mulled over her argument with Brant.

Virgins weren’t his specialty.

He’d said it as if she was some rare breed of animal that he had bagged but didn’t
know what to do with. Well, Brant Cates hadn’t bagged anything. And if “one night
wasn’t enough” that was just too bad. One night was all he was going to get.

The evening finally came to a close. Because she drank too much, Elizabeth felt it
was prudent to stay the night. At well after one o’clock, she slipped beneath the
sheets of Baby’s double bed.

“Wasn’t this a fun evening?” Baby said as she slid in next to Elizabeth. When Elizabeth
didn’t say anything, she rolled over and faced her. “I guess not so much for you.
Did you and Brant have a fight?”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight. A fight is what friends or lovers have. Brant and I are
neither.”

“So you didn’t have sex with him?” Baby sounded confused. “Minnie said that you did.”

Elizabeth probably could’ve denied it on technicalities. Unfortunately, it would still
be a lie. She and Brant hadn’t had intercourse, but they’d had sex. Steamy, orgasmic
sex that she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind.

“It was a bad idea,” she said. “I mean, what kind of person agrees that what you had
was just a one-night thing, and the next second he’s telling you that he wants more?”

“A man.”

Elizabeth glanced over, but all she could see was the outline of the hairnet that
covered Baby’s platinum-blond hair. “What?”

“Sex really screws with a man’s mind,” Baby said. “His body tells him he can’t live
without a woman, but his mind tells him he can’t live with one. It’s really a Catch-22
for the poor dears.”

“So why do we even mess with them?”

Baby giggled. “Because it’s fun. And because once they get past the battle between
their minds and bodies, they can be really sweet and loving. And you have to admit
that Brant is sweet. What man would take on a bunch of old women? He reminds me of
this cute boy I once knew. Johnny Daniels was the strong silent type that made all
the girls go crazy. I had a major crush on him in college.”

Elizabeth’s head came up off the pillow. “You went to college?”

“Cornell. Magna cum laude.”

Elizabeth was glad it was dark because she couldn’t hide her surprise. “But why did
you come here? I mean… couldn’t you find a better job?”

“It wasn’t about the money,” Baby said. “It was about finding a safe haven.” She hesitated
for a moment before she continued. “After I graduated from college I moved to New
York City and became a buyer for Macy’s Department Store. I was so cocksure of myself.
I had my own apartment and piles of clothes. But since I didn’t have family or many
friends, I was lonely.

“And then I met Michael. He was handsome and funny and a dapper lawyer who was as
full of himself as I was. It was love at first sight, and we married and moved to
Austin where he’d gotten a new job. Everything might’ve been okay if I hadn’t had
trouble getting pregnant.” She rolled on her back and placed a hand over her eyes.
“Look at me, after all these years, I’m still trying to blame myself for the abuse.”

“He hit you?” Elizabeth asked.

“ ‘Beat’ would be a more accurate word. Michael didn’t stop until I was bleeding and
half unconscious. Beneath his wool suit and crew cut was the worst kind of monster.”