Red's Hot Cowboy Read online

  When they both reached the top at the same time and he groaned “Red!” in that deep Texas drawl, she wanted to scream from the top of the clouds that she was in love with Wil Marshall. But that was crazy as hell. She’d known him less than a month.

  It was eleven o’clock when she awoke. He was propped up beside her on his elbow, a grin on his face. He reached over his head and picked up a wedge of mango and put it in her mouth.

  “You are lovely when you sleep. I wanted to kiss every single freckle, but I didn’t want to wake you. Warm enough?”

  “Still pretty damn hot,” she said.

  He bent down and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “I can put that fire out.”

  “I bet you can,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rolled over on top of him.

  He pulled the blanket up over them and rubbed her back.

  She gasped. “That’s making it hotter. Not putting it out.”

  “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 16

  She was antsy all day while she and Lucy cleaned rooms. She’d made it home at two o’clock in the morning, slept four hours, and was wide awake, ready to check guests out and clean rooms. She was humming when Lucy opened the lobby door and came in out of the cold.

  “So where did you go last night? Was it all fancy, with candles?” Lucy asked.

  “It had candles.” Pearl giggled and told her that they’d eaten at the farm, up in a hayloft.

  Lucy looked disappointed.

  But Pearl couldn’t even tell Lucy about it. Words could tell a story. Words could talk about emotions. Words could not describe what had happened the night before.

  She had the phone in her hand to call him when it rang in the middle of the afternoon.

  “Hello, great minds must think alike. I was about to call you,” she said.

  “I meant to call before now but the battery was dead on my cell phone and I’ve been in the field all day. Can I pick you up and we can grab some fast food at Sonic?”

  After the enchanting night before, Sonic sounded like slumming.

  “Do you have to be somewhere or doing something afterwards?” Pearl asked.

  “No, what do you have in mind?”

  “Interested in Italian? I’ve got leftover lasagna. It’s not homemade. It’s one of those frozen things but there’s plenty for both of us.”

  “What time?”

  “Six, and wear—”

  “A toga.” He laughed.

  “I was thinkin’ far less,” she teased.

  “You’re going to kill me graveyard dead, Red.”

  “Don’t die before supper or I’ll have to find another cowboy to eat all the leftovers.”

  He knocked at five minutes until six. When she opened the door he handed her half a dozen red roses wrapped in tissue paper and kissed her hard as he kicked the door shut with his boot heel.

  “They are beautiful. I’ll get a vase and put them in water,” she muttered between kisses.

  “Not as beautiful as you are.”

  “Flattery will get you—”

  “Darlin’, that’s fact, not flattery,” he said.

  He released her reluctantly with one more kiss and followed her to the kitchen. “This place smells wonderful. What can I do to help?”

  “Stay out of my kitchen,” she said.

  “Wow! We’re too much alike.” He removed his jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair.

  The table was set with heavy off-white stoneware; the stainless flatware was good quality but simple; and the napkins looked big and soft. She lit three tapered red candles in mismatched brass holders clumped together in the middle of the table. She pulled a bottle of red wine from an ice bucket, poured two glasses, and set them beside the plates. The timer on the oven dinged and she removed a foil pan half full of lasagna that she had grated fresh cheese on top of. She set it on the table. Then she pulled two bowls of chilled salad from the fridge and set one at each plate.

  He circled her waist with a big hand and pulled her to him. She wore jeans, a plain green knit shirt, her hair was up in a ponytail, and the bibbed apron had red stains on it. And she’d never looked lovelier to him.

  “I really like lasagna,” he said.

  “I’m not surprised. You make love like an Italian man. So you must love that kind of food.” She giggled. “Let’s eat while we can. I might be interrupted by customers.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he took his place at the table.

  She removed her apron and sat down beside him. “I’m watching the front desk. Salad already has dressing on it. I make my own Italian.”

  He put a forkful of salad into his mouth. “Got any customers yet?”

  “Six rooms are full. All older folk so maybe they’ll be happy and won’t call.”

  “Damn, this is good. You can cook for me anytime you want, Red.”

  She smiled and passed him the bread sticks.

  He took one and bit the end off, rolled his eyes, and looked at her with a new respect. “Did you make these from scratch?”

  “Sure I did.” She laughed. “Aunt Kate taught me to make them. You buy this frozen dough at the grocery store, lay it out on a cookie sheet, sprinkle some garlic salt on it, and brush it with butter. Then viola! Bread sticks.”

  “What else did she teach you?”

  “To play poker.”

  He laughed. “I’m not ever playing with you.”

  They finished and were washing dishes side-by-side when she heard someone in the lobby. She eased out the door and rented two rooms to a family of eight: grandparents, parents, and four small children. When she gave them their keys and slipped back into her apartment, the dishes were done and Wil was dozing on the sofa. She sat down in a rocking chair and watched him for half an hour until the bell on the lobby door rang again. She rented one room to a couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The man signed the card as Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Jones. She wondered if she ran the tags on the brand new Cadillac if she’d find that wasn’t the right name.

  Wil roused when she went back to the apartment. “Got anymore of that wine? That had to be Granny Lanier’s watermelon wine.”

  She poured two more glasses and carried them to the sofa. He pulled her down in his lap, clinked glasses with hers, and said, “To us.”

  “To us,” she whispered.

  He tossed back the wine like he’d done the whiskey on New Year’s Eve and set the glass down on an end table and slowly began to slip Pearl’s shirt up over her head. The lobby bell rang and she jumped up.

  “Dammit!” he swore. He should steal her away to the ranch and take her to the hayloft. No one disturbed them up there.

  “Good evening,” Pearl said.

  “Hi there. I’m Mrs. Franklin Burbanks and that’s my Caddy out there. My husband is staying in your motel tonight. I just wanted you to know that I’m driving my car out of here. I’m not stealing it. In the morning when he comes in here screaming that his car has been stolen, please give him this.” She handed a manila envelope to Pearl.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pearl said.

  The woman walked outside, said something to a lady in another vehicle, and unlocked the Caddy door with a remote device. She drove it out of the lot and Pearl laid the envelope on the desk.

  “That’s enough for one night,” Pearl said. She put the neon cowboy to bed for the night and turned on the NO VACANCY lights.

  “One got caught,” she said as she settled herself into Wil’s lap.

  “What?”

  She told him the story and asked, “Would you ever do that?”

  “Hell, no! To begin with I’m not a cheater. When I’m in a relationship it’s one hundred percent. When I want out I’m up-front and honest.” He wrapped his arms around her.

  He yawned and leaned his head back on the sofa. “You’ve worn me out, Red.”

  She laughed and snuggled up beside him.

  He traced the outline of her lips wit
h his fingertip. “Don’t freak out, Red, but Momma wants to meet you so she’s having a little Sunday dinner for the family this weekend. My sisters and their families will be there. Not a big crowd but they all think you saved my life and want to thank you.”

  “I did alibi you out of a murder charge,” she told him.

  She’d never been any good at meeting “the mother.” The mother could always tell if some brazen hussy woman had been sleeping with her precious son. And who’s to say she wouldn’t talk him into donning a collar and going to Africa? Pearl wasn’t ready to give God another man, so she squirmed at the thought of meeting Momma.

  “Yes, you did, darlin’. Of course, it was a case of mistaken identity and they let me go because they were lookin’ for William Marshall, not Wilson Marshall. But it’s a moot point. You were willing to drive over there and get me out of the cell. Will you go? I can pick you up about eleven. Your guests should be gone by then and it’s just my family.”

  Just his family! Yeah, right!

  “What’s your favorite Sunday dinner?” he asked as he ran his finger around her eyes, tickling her lashes. “Momma wants to know.”

  The meal was going to be planned around her wishes and whims… and she didn’t have to worry about it because it was just his family? Did he have cow shit for brains?

  “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, hot biscuits, green beans with bacon in them, and candied sweet potatoes. But if you don’t stop touching me like that I’m going to ask for oysters on the half shell. Keeping up with you is a tough job.”

  “Momma can do that kind of meal standing on her head and cross-eyed. She was afraid you’d ask for something fancy like oysters on the half shell.” He chuckled and traced her ears with his fingertips.

  “Fried chicken is fancy.”

  “What’s plain?”

  “Tomato soup from a can and bologna sandwiches.”

  “Well, my family can do a little better than that.”

  Turnabout was fair play, according to Aunt Pearlita. So if she had to go to dinner at his mother’s place then, well, turnabout was indeed fair play.

  “Our mothers think alike. Momma has been bugging me all week to bring you to Sherman so she can thank you for staying up with me all night. So this Sunday at your momma’s; the next at mine?”

  Wil’s dark brows drew downward, forming a single line. “You said you are an only child, right?”

  “Yes, I am. But you aren’t getting off so lucky. Granny will be visiting from Savannah and she’s bringing her sister, Aunt Kate, with her. It’ll be a Sunday evening dinner. Cocktails at six. Dinner in the formal dining room at seven. You can have coffee in the library with Daddy after dinner and we’ll talk about you while we have mint juleps in the parlor.”

  Wil squirmed. “I suppose I can do that.”

  “Good, then it’s a deal. I’ll be ready at eleven this Sunday, January…” she thought about what day it was and whether midnight had come and gone while they were making love, “January 17. And January 24 in Sherman. Lunch on the seventeenth and we’ll leave at four thirty on the twenty-fourth. I’ll either pick you up in the Caddy or if you want to do the manly thing and drive, you can pick me up at the motel in your truck.”

  He swallowed and his eyes opened up very, very wide. “Just how formal is this dinner?”

  “Knock the cow shit off your boots. Crease your jeans and iron your shirt and you should be fine,” she said. “Daddy wears jeans and boots all the time and Momma fusses but she does like cowboys.”

  “Well, that sounds good.” He played with a strand of hair. “Just touching your hair makes me hot as hell.”

  “Then I reckon we’d better put that fire out, hadn’t we?” She giggled and snuggled up so close that she could tell he wasn’t lying.

  She awoke the next morning and reached over to touch Wil, only to find a pillow instead of a warm body. There was a note on the nightstand that said, “Leaving at four o’clock. Didn’t want Lucy to demand you make an honest man of me. Will call later.”

  She held the note to her bare breast then sat up quickly and reached for the phone and dialed her mother’s number.

  “Hello, Pearl. Is everything all right?” Tess’s voice came through the line.

  “Everything is fine. I just wanted to call before Lucy and I start cleaning rooms. You got plans for dinner a week from Sunday?”

  “Nothing that can’t be changed if you want to come home. Your grandmother and Aunt Kate would be tickled to have you for a few days, and God knows it would take some pressure off me to have someone here to entertain them.”

  “It’s just for Sunday evening dinner. I’m bringing Wil Marshall with me and—”

  That’s as far as she got.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ll plan cocktails at six and dinner at seven. What’s his favorite dessert?”

  “Hell, I don’t know, Momma! Slow down. I’m not going to marry the man. I just thought it would be nice for you to meet him.”

  “Of course it will. We’ll invite the Casseys and the Wiltons. Oh, the Wiltons will have to bring their son because he’s home from that last job he did in Iraq so maybe you could bring Jasmine for him. That will make everything even.”

  “No, Momma. Keep it family. Let’s don’t scare him to death on his first run out of the chute.”

  Tess barely hesitated. “I suppose that’ll be all right but I hate it when you talk rodeo like that. Can’t you try to be more southern belle and less brazen?”

  “No, I can’t. I’m just a brazen redhead with a temper,” Pearl said.

  “Well, try to be a lady when you bring this fellow home for us to meet. I’m so excited! Is he pretty?”

  “Thanks, Momma. We’ll be there a little before six, then. And no, he looks like shit.”

  “Katy Pearl Richland!”

  “Well, he’s not pretty! He’s so handsome he’ll take your breath away and he’s hot as hell.”

  ***

  Wil called his mother the minute he awoke the next morning.

  “That you, Wil?” she answered.

  “It is. Y’all got plans for Sunday?”

  “Not this Sunday. We’re leaving on Tuesday for a couple of days. Goin’ down to Austin to see about a bull your dad is interested in buying. Want to go with us?”

  “No, but I’d like to bring Red… I mean Pearl… to the house for Sunday dinner. Kind of like a thank you for standing up for me even though it was a mistaken identity thing.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’ll call your sisters and invite them to come. Dinner at twelve?”

  “Yes, and I’ve been craving fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy and biscuits,” he said slyly.

  “Corn on the cob?”

  “No, green beans with bacon and candied sweet potatoes.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you. Never knew you to eat yams,” his mother said.

  “Guess my taste is changing.”

  “It’s about time.” She laughed.

  “Then I’ll see you on Sunday. I’ll bring dessert.”

  “You just bring that young lady. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  Chapter 17

  Lucy sat cross-legged on Pearl’s bed and brushed Delilah’s long yellow hair while Pearl stood in front of her closet and swore as she shoved hangers from one side of the closet to the other. Lucy’s bruises had healed and she’d stopped looking at the ground every time someone glanced at her. She still hadn’t found a cat, but Pearl had assured her that kittens were most usually born in the spring of the year and she’d have her pick of dozens in a few weeks.

  Lucy’s smile lit up her eyes. She was a pretty woman now that the bruises were healed. She kept her brown hair shiny and she’d bought two pair of jeans, three shirts, and a new bra last week at the Dollar General Store. She looked less like a waif and more like a woman since she’d been eating regularly and sleeping at night with no fear.

  “Did you shave your legs?” Lucy asked.

&n
bsp; Pearl propped one on the side of the bed and ran a hand down it.

  “Then you could wear a dress. I know he said that it was informal but that don’t have to mean jeans, does it?”

  “It’s just dinner with his folks so they can meet the woman who kept their pretty-boy son out of prison.”

  Lucy giggled.

  Pearl put her foot on the floor and sat on the bed. “What’s so funny?”

  “Woman shaves her legs, puts on perfume, gets her hair all fancied up, and then fusses and fumes over what to wear. You ain’t foolin’ me none. If it purrs like a cat, catches mice like a cat, and runs from a dog like a cat, chances are pretty dang good that it’s a cat.”

  “Kind of like the duck thing?”

  “What duck thing?”

  “Walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it’s a duck,” Pearl answered.

  “I like the cat one better. Never did like them loud-mouthed ducks and never did like eating ’em, neither.”

  “It’s just dinner at his momma’s place,” Pearl argued with herself more than with Lucy.

  And she’s goin’ to take one look at you and know that you’ve been beddin’ her son every chance you get and think you are a slut, her conscience chided.

  “In my part of the world when a man takes a girl home to meet Momma, it’s more’n a date. It’s the thing before the weddin’. Cleet’s momma didn’t like me a bit. Said I’d never make him a proper wife but that since I was pregnant she guessed she’d have to live with him takin’ the wrong woman. She thought it was good enough for me when he’d get mad and hit me because I didn’t have no business gettin’ pregnant in the first place.”

  It was the first time Lucy had mentioned Cleet in a while. Pearl didn’t say anything but waited.

  “She always thought that baby wasn’t Cleet’s but it was. There wasn’t no other man before him or after, neither. I hope I get my kitten soon,” she changed the subject abruptly. “I been lookin’ at all those cute little cat toys in the store.”