Trouble in Texas (5 page)

Sheriff Winslow removed his hat and scratched his head. “It was shore a surprise when
you went after those flowers like a dog after a rib eye. No one much thought about
you wantin’ to catch a man.”

Elizabeth hadn’t gone after anything. The only reason she’d been on the dance floor
was because the townsfolk had shoved her out there, led by a beaming Kenny Gene, and
the only thing she’d been thinking about catching was the first plane out of Texas.
The bouquet hadn’t even crossed her mind until it came straight at her like a softball
fast-pitch. She had no choice but to reach out and catch it. Now, standing there staring
at the sheriff’s wide grin, she realized that she’d made yet another miscalculation.
The first, thinking she could help out a bunch of ornery old hens.

“So what are you doin’ tomorrow?” Sheriff Winslow asked.

It was a good question. One she didn’t have the answer to. Most Sundays would find
her in the fifth row of the First Baptist Church. But just the thought of staring
up at the large wooden cross and listening to Pastor Robbins’s sermon while an innocent
man suffered who knew what kind of “hen-trocities” was more than Elizabeth could endure.

“I might go visit my mother in Amarillo,” she said, her voice quivering only slightly.
It was a lie. There was no way Elizabeth would go and visit her mother. Like most
moms, Harriett Murphy had a way of ferreting out the truth. And if she ever discovered
that Elizabeth had been out to Miss Hattie’s, prison would be the least of Elizabeth’s
worries.

“Amarillo, huh?” Sheriff Winslow shook his head. “Well, that’s a shame. Myra was hopin’
you could come over to dinner on Monday night and meet her cousin, Jethro. He ain’t
much upstairs, but I figure you got enough up there for both of you.”

Before Elizabeth could graciously decline the offer, Mayor Harley Sutter came hustling
up with his handlebar mustache and big belly bouncing. “Now you aren’t leavin’ yet,
are you, Ms. Murphy? I realize the bride and groom are gone, but that doesn’t mean
the party’s over. Why, the band is just warmin’—”

“ ’Course she’s not leavin’,” Darla cut in. “My brother, Bud, was just gettin’ ready
to ask her for a dance.”

“I don’t think so, Darla.” Kenny Gene joined the crowd that was forming around Elizabeth.
“I just saw Bud drivin’ like a bat out of hell down Grover Road.” He flashed a smile
and wink at Elizabeth, looking as happy as a convict on parole day.

“She don’t want Bud, anyway,” Cindy Lynn chimed in. “Not when she can have my Uncle
Wilbur.” She looked around. “Where did he go, anyway? I sent him to get her a cup
of punch.”

“At least Bud has a full set of his own teeth,” Darla shot back. “Wilbur hasn’t been
able to eat steak for the last eight years.”

Cindy rammed her fists on her hips. “Well, you can’t expect to get Robert Pattinson
when you’re Meryl Streep.”

Elizabeth stared at the group of people who surrounded her. It seemed that Kenny Gene
was wrong. Once her fingers had closed around the thick, ribbon-bound stem of the
artificial flowers, the townsfolk had stopped viewing her as an old maid who was content
with her single life and had started viewing her as a prime candidate for their matchmaking.
A few days ago, she would’ve been appalled at the idea. Now, she was more worried
about spending the rest of her life making license plates.

“Meryl can have any man she wants.” Rachel Dean appeared with a young cowboy on her
arm. “Now a days, younger men are goin’ for the older women.” She smiled up at the
man and winked. “Ain’t they, honey?”

“Only if they’re as good-lookin’ as you, Ms. Rachel.” The cowboy flashed a smile that
had all the women sighing.

Beauregard Cates was the younger brother of the groom, Billy—or as the town liked
to refer to him, Bubba. Bubba had introduced Beau to Elizabeth just that evening,
but she couldn’t recall a word of their conversation. Although her preoccupation didn’t
stop her from understanding why all the women were so awestruck by the younger Cates
brother. In a black Stetson, white
pleated shirt, and black tuxedo pants, he was a stunningly attractive man.

Without any warning, another attractive man flashed into her mind. A man with hair
as rich and silky as satin. Eyes the color of the sky on the verge of sunset. And
lips that were made to give pleasure. At the thought of the pleasure they had given
her, Elizabeth blushed. But her flaming face was nothing compared to the guilt that
knotted in her stomach.

“Behave yourself, you rascal.” Rachel swatted Beau’s arm. “I’m old enough to be your
mama and then some.” Her gaze swept over to Elizabeth. “But Ms. Murphy here is just
old enough to make things interestin’.” She unhooked her arm and gave him a shove.
“Now, you two go on and dance.”

Elizabeth held up a hand. “I would love to, but I’m going to see my mother tomorrow.
Which means I should probably go home and pack.” Or go home and have a heart attack,
which was much more likely.

“Nonsense,” Rachel Dean said. “I’m sure you have time for one dance.”

Beau flashed another smile as he nodded his head at the dance floor. “It would sure
be my pleasure, Ms. Murphy.”

Elizabeth started to decline, but then realized that it would be easier to get away
from one east Texas cowboy than an entire town of matchmakers. She nodded and allowed
him to take her elbow and lead her away from the grinning crowd.

“So if you don’t want the bouquet, why did you catch it?”

Beau’s question had her glancing up at him. Most of
his face was shadowed by the brim of the cowboy hat. But what she could see was an
angular jaw and lips that were tipped up in a slight smile. It wasn’t as devastatingly
sexy as the full one… but close.

“What makes you think I didn’t want it?” she asked.

“The look on your face after you caught it for one.” He nodded down at the flowers.
“And the way you’re holding it now—sort of like it’s a rattlesnake with a sore tooth.”

As distracted as she was, she couldn’t help but laugh at the analogy. “Well, you’re
right; I wanted it about as much as you wanted to dance with me. So why don’t we stop
the pretense so you can go ask one of those pretty college girls to dance?”

He followed her gaze over to the group of young women who were huddled together and
staring at him like he was a celebrity straight from the pages of
People
magazine. He lifted a hand in greeting and flashed them his megawatt smile as he
spoke through his teeth.

“Those marriage-minded women?” Beau turned back to her and, using just two fingers,
took the bouquet from her hand and flipped it down on a nearby picnic table. “I think
my bachelor life will be safer with you.”

With his hand riding the small of her back, he guided her onto the wooden dance floor
Kenny Gene and Rye Pickett had set up on the dirt lot in front of Shirlene’s childhood
trailer. Grover Road was an unusual choice for a wedding reception, especially when
most receptions were held at the town hall. But Elizabeth had to admit that it looked
quaint and homey. Twinkle lights filled the shrubs and elm trees, and colored Christmas
lights were strung from the roof of the beat-up trailer and out over the dance floor.

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at dancing,” she said as he slipped a hand around her
waist. “Or anything that takes coordination.”

He winked at her. “Good. Because I’m not very coordinated myself.”

It turned out to be an understatement. The man was clumsier than Elizabeth. At least
she just stepped on his toes. He tripped on an uneven edge in the dance floor and
almost took them both down. He regained his balance in time to have his toe smashed
beneath her heel. A more genuine smile creased his face.

“Maybe it would help if we both weren’t trying to lead.”

“Sorry,” she said, “but following has never been my strong suit.”

Beau tipped back his head and laughed. “Mine either, which has been a bone of contention
with my family lately.”

“Because you don’t want to get married and settle down?”

“No, because I don’t want to help run the family business.”

The family business was C-Corp, a large gas and oil company that had recently bought
out Dalton Oil with the intention of closing it down. It was all part of a vendetta
the brothers held against the town of Bramble for a murder that had happened years
earlier. About a hundred years earlier. Just months after a Miss Hattie Ladue had
opened the doors of her establishment.

Just the thought of Miss Hattie’s had her stumbling, which threw Beau off step and
almost had them colliding with Shirlene’s brother, Colt Lomax. Colt was dancing
with his wife Hope and his baby daughter Daffodil. For growing up the sullen bad boy
of Bramble, he looked as peaceful and content as a man could get. But no more peaceful
than the man who danced next to them with a wife and daughter who were carbon copies
of Hope and Daffodil. Slate Calhoun grinned down at Faith and Daisy as if they were
his entire world.

A thought struck Elizabeth. What if the man in Miss Hattie’s room had a family? A
family who was now worried sick about him? The thought of young children crying out
for their father was like a cold slap of reality. What had she been thinking? It didn’t
matter what happened to her life, or her mother’s; she couldn’t continue to let Minnie
hold an innocent man hostage.

Which meant that she needed to stop this farce and head straight out to Miss Hattie’s
so she could release the poor man. Then it would be her turn to be handcuffed.

Unless…

Unless the man didn’t want people to know he had stopped by a famous whorehouse. And
what family man wouldn’t want to keep that a secret? The thought caused the knots
in her shoulder to release and the more confident Ms. Murphy to reemerge.

Their bumbling attempt at dancing didn’t seem so bad after that. In fact, she actually
had started to enjoy herself when the song came to an end.

“How about one more?” Beau asked.

As much as she would’ve liked to try another dance, Elizabeth shook her head. “I really
need to be going.”

Beau actually looked disappointed. Or maybe he was just extremely mannerly. Tucking
a hand around her waist, he guided her off the dance floor. “I guess I shouldn’t have
brought up my family’s business. People must still be upset about us wanting to close
down Dalton Oil.”

She shook her head. “That isn’t it at all. I admire a person who is willing to break
from their family’s profession and strike out on their own.”

He reached out and snagged the bouquet from the table. “You don’t want to forget this,”
he said with a teasing grin.

“So if you don’t want to join the family business,” she said as she took the bouquet,
“what kind of business are you interested in?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is that life is too short to spend it worrying about making
money.”

She shot a glance over at him. “Thus said the man with more money than he knows what
to do with.”

He laughed. “True, but someone has to enjoy the fruits of my brothers’ labor. It might
as well be me.” He continued to walk with her toward the lot next door where all the
cars were parked. “So tell me, Ms. Murphy, if you could do anything in the world,
what would you do?”

“I’d be a librarian in a small west Texas town,” she answered. That’s all she wanted.
That’s all she had ever wanted. She just hoped that she would be able to retain her
dream.

Beau nodded. “So I get the librarian thing, but explain the entire old maid thing.
I have a maiden aunt, but she’s eighty-six. You don’t look any older than my brother.”

“I think I’m a few years older than Bubba—I mean, Billy.”

“I was talking about my oldest brother.”

She had heard the gossip about his oldest brother. The townsfolk were convinced he
was a no-good, rotten
scoundrel who still wanted to shut down Dalton Oil. Elizabeth had been willing to
give him the benefit of the doubt, but now she wondered if the townsfolk weren’t right.
The oldest Cates brother hadn’t even attended Shirlene and Billy’s wedding. And only
a man who held grudges would refuse to attend his own brother’s wedding because he
was still mad at the folks of Bramble.

“So how old is this brother of yours?” she asked.

“Thirty-eight.” He took off his hat and held it out for her to precede him through
the break in the hedge that separated Shirlene’s property from the property next door.

Brighter lights had been strung around the lot that was filled with dinged-up American-made
cars and mud-splattered pickups.

“I’m surprised that he didn’t show up,” Beau said as he followed her to her car. “Family
means everything to him.”

“Obviously, not enough.” She stopped at her car and fished the keys from the pocket
of her suit jacket.

“You sure don’t mince words, do you, Ms. Murphy?” he said as he pulled the door open
for her.

“I guess I’ve never believed in beating around the bush.”

“Something that I find very refreshing.” Beau touched her arm until she turned to
him. “How about if you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

In the bright lights, his face was even more devastatingly handsome. She studied the
hard lines of his jawbone, his smiling lips, and straight non-imposing nose. But it
wasn’t until she reached his clear, sapphire eyes that her breath caught in her throat,
and she swayed on her feet.

“Ms. Murphy?” Beau reached out and took her arm. “Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine,” she choked out before taking a deep breath of cool autumn air. “I guess
all that dancing made me a little dizzy.”

“Maybe I should drive you home,” he said.

“No!” She shook her head and tried to calm the wild thumping of her heart. “Y-your
big brother? I suppose he has hair the color of yours.”

Beau laughed. “No, I’m the only one of the kids with silver hair.”

“Brown like Billy’s?” She squeezed the words out of her tight throat.

“No. Brant has hair like my mama’s side of the family—black as a crow’s.”