To Marry a Texas Cowboy

by Julie Benson

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Stop Traffic said as he removed the foil wrap.

  The voice fit the man—confident, smooth, and, when paired with his crooked, boyish smile, could render any woman within a fifty-mile radius spellbound, and from the besotted looks of the nearby females, that was exactly what he’d done.

  “As soon as the bubbly’s poured, everyone grab a glass to toast AJ and Grace,” Ty said.

  Cheers and whistles erupted in response to Ty’s announcement. Before the room quieted, lightning slashed through the darkness and a thunderous boom rattled the windows. Something popped as the lights flickered, then died. Gasps and shrieks reverberated around the room.

  Inky darkness, the kind only found in the country, descended as pain shot through McKenna’s nose. She cried out and stumbled backward, reaching out to steady herself, but grabbed only air. Her hand holding the bottle flew forward.

  “Dang, that’s cold.”

  McKenna winced, recognizing Mr. Stop Traffic’s voice. What had happened to him?

  Finally getting her feet under her, she pulled away and cupped her nose, feeling something wet and sticky. Not good. She swiped the dampness away with her sleeve and ignored the pain.

  “It’s okay, everyone. Merely some excitement we didn’t expect, but nothing to worry about,” McKenna said loud enough to be heard over the booming thunder and howling wind. She found her phone and used her flashlight app to light a small area around her. “I’ll fire up the generator, but I’m betting the lights will be on before I get there.”

  “Are you okay?” Mr. Stop Traffic asked, stepping into the light. She must have showered him with champagne because his shirt lay plastered against his chest, revealing his well-defined abs. Oh, my. His chest looked as wonderful as his face.

  “I need to get to the generator,” she said, but she’d no sooner gotten the words out when the lights came on.

  “What happened? There’s blood smeared on your face and sleeve, and your nose is swollen.”

  McKenna resisted the urge to groan, his comment obliterating all her feminine warm fuzzy feelings. While she was thinking about how dreamy he was, he’d been worried about her bloody, swollen nose. She should’ve known something practical accounted for his interest.

  “Something hit my nose when the lights went out.”

  “Bet it was the cork from my champagne bottle. It got away from me when the lightning hit.” He glanced around. “Mrs. Severance, you’re a nurse. Come check this out.”

  Thanks. Call more attention to the fact that I got hurt and probably resemble a rodeo clown, while you, dripping wet with champagne look…marvelous.

  McKenna smiled and waved the older woman off. “No need. I’m fine.”

  “If you’re sure,” Mrs. Severance replied.

  She nodded as Mr. Stop Traffic moved past her, lifted a glass, and filled it with water from a nearby pitcher. Next, he grabbed a napkin, dunked the square into the water, and returned. Increasingly embarrassed and fighting the urge to run, McKenna reached for the napkin, but he pushed her hand away. “You’ll only smear it more.”

  His brows furrowed in concentration as he wiped the blood from her face. His green eyes held tiny flecks of gold, making them almost sparkle. He had the most mesmerizing eyes. Paul Newman, never-forget kind, except in green instead of blue. Her breath caught in her chest. She couldn’t think. Oh dear. No man had ever sent such a warm rush of pleasure pulsing through her before. Not even during sex.

  “You need medical attention. Your nose is really swollen.”

  His words obliterating her sexual feel-good haze, she leaned forward, kept a smile on her face, and whispered, “Stop saying how swollen my nose is. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I need to do my job.” Then she straightened and announced, “I’m fine, everyone. If I wasn’t, I’d say so. Now let’s get this party back on track and toast the happy couple.”

  She placed her empty bottle in the tub and selected another. This one she opened before handing it to him. “Pour. Everyone’s waiting.”

  “Hey, Zane,” came Ty’s voice again from the dance floor, “everyone okay back there? You about got that champagne poured?”

  McKenna froze. Zane? While that wasn’t a common name, it wouldn’t be unheard of for two men named Zane to be in attendance tonight.

  Right, and if you believe that then you’ve got less brains than God gave a fruit fly.

  “Don’t get your britches in a knot, Ty. We’ll be ready for the toast in a minute,” Zane replied.

  No, she couldn’t have done what it appeared she had—assumed her boss’s grandson was temporary hired help, ordered him around, and spilled champagne all over him.

  This man couldn’t be Ginny’s grandson, the video game designer from Los Angeles, because nothing about this man said California. He was all Texas, including Wrangler jeans, a crisp black western shirt, a silver oval belt buckle with Texas written in the center, and freshly polished cowboy boots.

  Despite the evidence, she had to be certain. “You’re not Ginny’s grandson Zane, are you?”

  “The one and only.” He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat in deference. “Good to meet you. I assume you’re Ginny’s assistant, McKenna?”

  She swallowed her groan and nodded. “I’m so sorry for assuming you were staff. Granted, it was an honest mistake.” She pinched her lips together, fearing she’d start rambling.

  “Understandable,” Zane said and nodded toward the champagne flutes. “Let’s get this crowd a drink before they rush the table.”

  McKenna smiled at the guests assembled around them. “I appreciate everyone’s patience.” She scanned the room for wait staff. Where was everyone they’d hired tonight? She leaned closer to Zane. “Guests don’t pour drinks. I’ll find other help.”

  “I’m here and willing. No need to keep everyone waiting.”

  Conceding his point, she nodded, and made a mental note to introduce herself properly later. A second apology for her assumption wouldn’t hurt either.

  A minute later, when they’d finished filling glasses, McKenna motioned guests forward while she and Zane stepped aside. When everyone was served, Zane grabbed two glasses and held one out to her. She accepted the flute and smiled, ready to toast the happy couple, though she wouldn’t drink. Alcohol on the job, even a small sip, was a rule she never broke.

  “Everyone’s set, Ty,” Zane called out. “Go ahead with your speech, but don’t make it too long-winded.”

  “Would I do that?” Ty shot back.

  “Yes,” responded a chorus of voices.

  “Tough crowd,” Ty groused and asked AJ and Grace to join him. “When the FBI sent AJ to Wishing to ferret out the forged government documents floating around the county, they did us a huge favor. Not only did he take care of that problem, but we got the best chief of police we could ask for.”

  Cheers and hear hears erupted.

  “Then Cassie asked Grace to manage the Bluebonnet Inn, and she literally ran into AJ.”

  “Dang if she didn’t total my truck,” AJ grumbled.

  “Only because it was pretty much worthless,” Grace countered.

  Ty turned to the couple. “Can I continue with memorializing your love for each other?”

  The crowd laughed, and McKenna joined in, envious of the genuine affection between the couple and the best man.

  “We’re glad fate brought them here and threw them together.” Ty raised his glass, as did everyone. “Here’s to Grace and AJ. May you be as blessed in your marriage as we have been since you two moved to town.”

  Everyone cheered again, clinked glasses, and wished AJ and Grace all the best. The DJ started the music again and guests returned to the dance floor.

  Hoping to repair her botched meeting with Ginny’s grandson, McKenna turned to Zane.

  “Thank you for your help, and again, let me apologize for assuming you were part of the staff.”

  “Want to make it up to me?”

  Something about his gaze
made McKenna nervous. Zane was too intense, too intoxicating, just plain too much. But it was more than that. The mischievous glint in his eyes reminded her of Erin’s when as children she’d ask for a favor, and McKenna agreed without asking for details. Then she’d find herself doing her sister’s chores while Erin met her friends at the mall.

  “Depends on what you have in mind,” she said.

  “Dance with me.”

  “Dance? You’re asking me to dance? With you?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Yes. Men who looked as if they belonged on magazine covers never asked her to dance.

  “Thank you for asking. Maybe another time when I’m not working.”

  “A dance lasts what, three, four minutes tops? What can happen in that short a time?”

  “You’d be surprised. I’ve had simple disagreements turn into brawls in a second when someone’s had too much to drink. I’ve had to put out fires because someone played with the table candles and a napkin ignited.”

  “With the entire Wishing Police Department here, you don’t need to worry about fights.” He glanced at the tables. “Since the tables have flower arrangements, that eliminates potential fires.” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling as if he intended to share a secret. “Here’s a tip. There are newfangled LED candles that look like real ones.”

  Really? He thought she was so clueless she didn’t know about LED candles? She resisted the urge roll her eyes. “Those weren’t an option because the bride insisted on a specific brand of lavender scented candles.”

  “That’s the problem. Women focus on the wedding but don’t give a thought to the marriage.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You can monitor for potential tragedies from the dance floor. In fact, you could get a whole new perspective.”

  “I have a rule about never socializing when I’m working.”

  A slow grin spread across his face revealing his dimples, and the world faded. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

  Her glow disappeared. He was one of those people. Ones who went with their guts, bending rules to suit their purposes, while ignoring the consequences. No thanks. She’d lived with someone like that growing up and now avoided them like a child with a green runny nose in flu season. “Not by me they aren’t. Rules provide order, structure, and stability in a world filled with chaos.”

  “Nah, they zap the fun out of life. If my grandmother were here, she’d say it was okay, and I know AJ and Grace won’t mind.”

  Her stomach fluttered, but not because she was flattered by Zane’s persistence. Instead his tenacity had her smelling rotten eggs.

  Men never pursued her. She wasn’t the type of woman who inspired determination. Not that she needed to put a paper bag over her head, but she was average. Average height. Average looks. Average figure. Nothing special. Unlike Erin.

  When people talked about the Stinson girls, they referred to Erin as the beauty and McKenna as the smart, strong-willed one. If given a choice between looks or brains, she’d take the latter, but she knew what that meant in terms of men. They either ignored her because her brains intimidated them, or they overlooked her because she wasn’t beautiful.

  Her mother’s advice rang in her ears. Never get involved with a man who’s prettier than you are. Women will flock around him, and you’ll spend your life worrying he’ll realize he can do better.

  Tilting her head to the right, McKenna crooked her eyebrow. “Let’s be honest. Men who look like you never approach women like me at a party for anything other than directions to the restroom. So out with it. Tell me what’s really going on here and why you asked me to dance.”

  *

  Zane paused, stunned. What? She turned him down? Women never gave him the third degree, especially about why he asked them to dance. Nope, not once in his entire life. Not even at grade school mixers. Women smiled, maybe blushed a little, and said yes. But McKenna wanted to know why he asked her, and danged if she hadn’t left him tongue-tied trying to think of an acceptable answer other than the truth.

  When he’d accepted his friends’ bet it sounded harmless. Hell, they bet on everything, including the weather, but faced with McKenna standing in front of him, hands on her hips, her eyes full of suspicion and accusation, the bet seemed callous now.

  No, he wouldn’t feel guilty. Asking her for a date would’ve been cold, but a dance? People danced all the time, and it was a fine way for two people to get acquainted which he and McKenna should do since they’d be working together.

  Damn. Another twinge of guilt rippled through him. He should tell her about the changes at Lucky Stars, but tonight was about AJ and Grace, and he wouldn’t risk causing a problem at AJ’s engagement party. Best to wait until next week in the office to break the news.

  “I’m crushed.” Zane clutched his chest in exaggerated pain. “I’m making a friendly gesture to get to know you for my grandmother’s sake.”

  McKenna rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I’m not buying what you’re selling. I suspect it would take more than a few words from me to shake your confidence.”

  She waved her hand around the room. “There are countless women who’d oblige you with a dance. Ones who aren’t working.” She clasped her hands together in front of her and smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes. She smiled the way an irritated salesclerk did at a person with a pile of returns on December twenty-sixth. One that said, she was reminding herself she couldn’t blast him with both barrels. “Now, I have a clogged sink to deal with. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Then she turned and stalked away, while he stood there with his mouth hanging open, shaking his head in amazement. The woman put him in his place, and damned if he hadn’t enjoyed the tussle and admired her for it.

  She was something. Being hit with the cork and a bloody nose hadn’t slowed her down one step. No, sir. She kept on going, not shedding a tear. Most women he knew would be crying in the emergency room, demanding to see a plastic surgeon. They’d also say to hell with work. Let someone else worry about it, but not McKenna.

  “Did that go as bad as it looked like it did from where we were?” Cooper asked as he thumped Zane on the back.

  Though AJ and Ty were still dancing, when they spotted him looking in their direction, they grinned and chuckled. Zane shoved his hands in his front pockets as his ears grew hot. He’d hoped his friends hadn’t witnessed McKenna’s brush-off, but he should’ve known they’d be keeping an eye on him. This was prime entertainment, probably rating right up there with Aggie football.

  “Hitting her in the face with a champagne cork was a great way to get her attention. From the looks of it, you dang near broke her nose,” Cooper said.

  “That was bad luck, but I’ll make a comeback.”

  “Not from the irritated look I saw, you won’t.”

  Dang. If Cooper, the least perceptive of his friends, noticed how ticked McKenna was, Zane was hip deep in trouble.

  “If I hadn’t seen it, I never would’ve believed you could bomb that bad. Maybe tonight’s not your night. Want to cut your losses and pay now?” Cooper asked.

  The ribbing he would take over his friends being right while he’d been wrong would sting more than losing the money, and they’d hold it over his head for a good while. But Coop’s comment made the bet a matter of pride.

  “No way. The night’s still young, and bad luck can turn around in an instant.” A confidence Zane didn’t feel rang in his voice.

  “I’m surprised. You’ve never been a glutton for punishment.”

  “I’ve never been one to walk away from a challenge either.” And if nothing else, McKenna Stinson was a challenge. “The big issue is she’s working. The way to eliminate that is to hang around after the party’s over.”

  A phone dinged and they both pulled theirs out to check. “It’s mine,” Coop said, his voice resigned. “Cheyenne can’t find me, and it’s in all caps.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got groveling to do.” Zane chuckled at his frien
d’s discomfort.

  “But I’m still in better shape than you are with McKenna.”

  *

  When the party ended, Zane wandered to the old barn. He missed the Lucky Stars the way it had been as a cattle ranch. A few head still roamed through the fields, making him smile. He and Ginny couldn’t bring themselves to sell the last few after his grandfather died.

  He smiled thinking of when he’d designed Cowboys and Zombies. Because he’d set the game on a fictional version of this ranch, he had traveled back in time and restored Lucky Stars to its former glory. He’d also kept a part of his Grandpa Paul alive by memorializing him in a character.

  Where were these maudlin thoughts coming from? He’d never felt them before when he visited Wishing.

  But this visit was different, as were his friends. The fact had hit Zane again tonight with them paired up.

  Change made Zane nervous. How often had he found it to be a good thing? Rarely. Would his friends moving on to a different phase of life turn out the way other change had for him?

  A moment of stark panic shot through him. What if his buddies grew so busy with their own families they didn’t have time for him? What if he couldn’t call and find them there for him no matter what he needed?

  No, that wouldn’t happen. Married or single. Kids or not. No matter what life threw his way, they’d be there for each other through hell and high water as they always had been.

  They’d still be hanging out and tossing out bets.

  Figuring he’d waited long enough for folks to clear out, Zane returned to the event barn, his plan in place. He’d offer to help McKenna clean up, and once finished, he’d pull out his phone, put on a slow ballad, and ask her to dance. No sweat.

  When he opened the large barn door and stepped inside, a sexy, feminine, and haunting voice swirled around him. Strong, yet ethereal, the rich tone captivated him singing “With a Song in My Heart.” The throaty rendition poured through him like honeyed gravel. Who could be singing his grandmother’s favorite song?

  Zane closed his eyes as memories of his life with his grandparents rippled over him. His earliest memories were of Ginny singing that song when she worked in the house or on the ranch. Visions of him following them around, helping with chores, soaking up their attention flowed over him. Sometimes his grandfather would pull out an old vinyl record of either the Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald version and ask Ginny to dance. Zane smiled, remembering his grandparents dancing. How happy he’d been. How he’d felt loved and part of a family.