“I’ll tell him.” Dalton stuck out his hand next. “Good sermon this morning.”
“It’s that time of year when young folks are planning summer weddings, so they need to think about what it truly means to be in love.” The preacher winked.
“Yes, sir,” Dalton nodded. “See you next week.”
“Did you really listen to the sermon?” Becca asked. “Or were you just saying something nice.”
“It was all about what it’s like to fall in love, right?” Dalton stopped beside her car and opened the door for her.
“So, Dalton Wilson, how many times have you been in love?” She slid behind the wheel.
“I might have to take my boots off to count that far,” he answered.
“I mean in real love, not lust,” she said.
“Well, in that case…” He closed his eyes as if trying to count. “That would be one time.” No way was he admitting that the time was right now. The woman was Becca, and it had been love at first sight. “How about you? Give me a number.”
“Lust a few times. Love, never. I was too busy concentrating on getting a music contract to let a man into my heart and life,” she said.
“You going back to that anytime soon?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “I gave it my best for ten years, and it didn’t work. It’s time to leave that dream behind and move on.”
“To what?” he asked.
“Right now, making wine. I’m enjoying the work, and I’ve even entertained notions of putting in a vineyard of my own,” she answered.
“There’s lots of good sandy land to do that around here,” he suggested.
“Hey, are you two about starved?” Greta yelled as she started down the stairs.
In a few long strides, Dalton was beside her and had looped her arm in his. “Here, Miz Greta, let me help you, and yes, I’m starving. I didn’t have time to eat breakfast, so I might be just about to embarrass Becca.”
“I love a man with a good appetite.” Greta smiled up at him.
“That’s great, because I love good home cookin’,” he told her.
When Greta was settled and her seat belt fastened, Dalton went to his truck and followed them to the house. After he’d first met her at the watermelon farm, he’d driven around town until he spotted Becca’s little dark-blue car with its Tennessee license plate. That was another thing he’d never admit because it made him sound like a stalker.
Greta was out of the car and headed toward the porch by the time he got parked. He saw her lips moving, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying. From Becca’s expression and the way she rolled those big, beautiful green eyes, it was something that she didn’t really agree with.
“Hey,” Becca waved. “I’m supposed to tell you that it’s too hot for Tuff to spend the afternoon in the back of the truck, and you’re supposed to bring him inside. I hope he’s housebroken.”
“Of course he is, and he appreciates the offer.” Dalton gave a shrill whistle and Tuff bounded out of the back of the truck. Tail wagging and head held up, he marched right up on the porch and lay down in the shade. “He says that if he could have a bowl of water, he’d be right comfortable out here.”
“I believe we can manage that,” Becca said. “Come on in.”
The redbrick house had a wide-enough front porch to support a swing at one end. A white chaise lounge with bright-green pillows sat on the other end. A gentle summer breeze spread the scent of the red roses that grew across the front of the place.
Dalton followed Becca inside, removed his hat, and hung it on a hall tree right inside the door. “Nice place,” he said.
“We like it just fine. Daddy wanted Grammie to buy property down in Ringgold, but she checked the property taxes, and they were cheaper in Oklahoma.” Becca kicked her high heels off and slid them up under a ladder-back chair. “It’s only a five-minute drive down to Daddy’s ranch, so it’s not that big a deal unless it floods and they close the river bridge.”
“Becca, darlin’ girl, you can come on in here and make the salad,” Greta called out.
“I’m glad to help out.” Dalton followed her into the kitchen.
“Where’s Tuff?” Greta asked.
“He opted to protect the house from the front porch,” Dalton answered as he rolled up his sleeves.
“Good dog, that one,” Greta said. “Never know when we might get one of them salesmen or Bible-thumpin’ folks knockin’ on the door. Tuff has my permission to bite either of them on the arse.”
“If you will point me in the right direction, I’ll set the table.” Dalton rolled up his sleeves. “Been pettin’ Tuff, so I’ll need to wash up. All right if I do that in the sink?”
“Sure thing,” Greta said. “My Seamus always got cleaned up in the kitchen sink. Brings back good memories.”
Dalton washed his hands all the way to the elbows and then turned to look for a towel. Becca was standing right behind him, towel in hand. He took it from her and started drying the water from his arms.
“My turn.” She hip butted him to one side. “Can’t be tearin’ up the lettuce with the smell of dog on me either. Plates are right there. We’ll need salad bowls, too, and you might as well get dessert dishes down. Grammie made a pecan pie for dessert.”
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Dalton groaned. “Pecan pie is my favorite, right next to apple, cherry, and peach cobbler, and banana cream.”
“In other words, you like pie?” Becca finished washing her hands.
Dalton gave her the towel and took down the plates. Thank God, Nana had raised him by the goose and gander law. She always said what was good for the goose was good for the gander and insisted he learn a little about cooking and keeping house as well as how to work cattle and build a barn. “I love pie of any kind, cake of any kind, and ice cream and homemade fudge, and I could go on and on. I have a sweet tooth that is never satisfied.”
Becca giggled. “That sounds like a pickup line.”
Greta laughed with her. “And the next thing you should say is ‘And you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,’ right?”
“I’ll have to remember that.” Dalton grinned as he set plates and cutlery in the proper places.
When everything was ready, Greta told Dalton to sit at the head of the table and she sat to his left, leaving the place to his right for Becca. “I’ll say grace,” she said, and gave a twenty-second grace for the food. “Eli already blessed everything in the whole bloody county, so that’s enough even if it is Sunday.” She passed the platter with the pot roast, potatoes, and carrots over to Dalton.
“This is one fine meal,” he said as he heaped his plate and handed the platter to Becca. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”
“You’re very welcome. It’s nice to have a man at the table.” Greta took out a good portion of meat and vegetables when Becca was finished. “Us McKays are not a bit bashful when it comes to eating. We like our food, and we’re not ashamed to take seconds, so don’t hold back, Dalton, but do remember that we have pecan pie for dessert.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tried to eat slowly so he could spend more time with Becca, but he was so danged hungry that he’d finished off his plate in record time.
“After dinner, me and my friends are going down to the casino to see if we can turn twenty dollars into a hundred,” Greta said as she reached for a second helping. “There’s movies in the entertainment center. You kids can pick out one and watch it while I’m gone, unless you’ve got somewhere you need to be, Dalton.”
“No, ma’am.” He grinned and picked up a second hot roll. “I’d love to settle in and watch a movie with Becca.”
“Just don’t fall asleep.” Greta grinned. “My granddaughter can be a real practical joker.”
“Oh, really?” He arched an eyebrow toward Becca.
She shr
ugged. “Fall asleep and find out.”
Chapter 3
Grammie was a sneaky one.
Becca was not going to watch a movie with Dalton that afternoon. She intended to curl up on the porch swing and read one of the romance novels her mother had given her last weekend. Or she might go down to Ringgold, saddle up her horse, and go for a ride across her folks’ ranch. She had fended off all the real cowboys, wannabe cowboys, and cowboy singers in Nashville, but she had to admit she was attracted to Dalton. The chemistry between them was way too strong to spend a whole afternoon alone with him.
Or is it? She pondered.
Dalton Wilson could be like chocolate. If she had too much of it and got downright sick of the taste, she might not want to ever look at it again. If she spent some time with the man, she might possibly find all kinds of things about him that she didn’t like.
Grammie was also more than a little controlling.
“I’ve got the perfect movie for y’all to watch this afternoon,” Grammie said as she rifled through the drawers in her entertainment center. “Here it is. It’s an old one, probably popular when y’all were just kids.”
“What’s the title?” Becca set a glass of sweet tea on the end table and then plopped down on the sofa.
“It’s got Patrick Dempsey in it, and it’s…” She held up the movie to show them that it was Lucky 7, “…and Kimberly Williams, and it’s all about a girl who thinks…” She stopped and smiled. “Y’all just watch it. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. It won’t take us long to lose twenty bucks at the casino.” She picked up her purse from the coffee table and left the house when the sound of a car horn blasted out in the front yard.
“You ever watched this?” Dalton sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“Nope.” Becca said. “Grammie loves chick-flick movies, so you can bet your bottom dollar this is not an action film. You can sneak away if you want to.”
“Naw,” Dalton grinned and put the disk she handed him into the player. “I don’t reckon one love movie will hurt me.”
Becca picked up the remote, hit the play button, and then read the back of the container that held the movie. Oh, yes, sir, Grammie was playing matchmaker for sure.
“Mind if I take off my boots?” Dalton asked.
“Not one bit.” Becca propped her bare feet up on the coffee table. “Grammie says this is what a coffee table should be for, not for doilies and fancy flower arrangements.”
“Smart woman.” Dalton removed his boots, set them to the side, and stretched his long legs out. “What do you like, Becca? Do you prefer fancy fixin’s or do you follow after Greta?”
“A little of both,” she answered and focused on the movie that showed a bagel shop right close to the beginning. She missed grabbing a bagel on the way to work each morning the way she had done in Nashville. She hadn’t even minded driving a little bit out of the way over to Abbot Martin Road to get a fresh one.
“So, this girl is going to be waiting for her seventh boyfriend to really fall in love, right?” Dalton asked after the very first flashback scene to where a young girl was visiting with her dying mother. “Tell me that your mother is alive and well, and that you aren’t waiting for number seven.”
“My mama is Trudy McKay, and she is very much alive,” Becca answered. “I’m not waiting for any particular number.”
Dalton wiped his forehead in a fake dramatic gesture. “Whew! I was afraid I’d have a long wait if I had to go on home and wait until you went through six boyfriends.”
She started to smart off with a quick comeback, but a scratching noise distracted her. She stood up, crossed the room, and found Tuff with what looked like a big gray rat in his mouth. The ugly critter was wagging his tail like he expected praise for bringing the dead varmint to her. She quickly closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at it anymore, slammed the door, and yelled, “Dalton!”
In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was right beside her. “Are you all right? What happened? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
“I hate rats,” she said.
“Where is it?” Dalton looked around the foyer. “Which way did it run? I’ll catch it and get rid of it for you.”
She pointed. “Tuff has it on the porch.”
Dalton opened the door just enough to peek outside. “Tuff has brought you a present, but it’s not a rat. Come on over here and take a look. He was raised with cats, and he loves kittens.”
Becca eased across the room, and sure enough, there was a little gray kitten fighting with Tuff’s tail as it swished back and forth on the porch. “Ohhh, isn’t it the cutest thing. Where do you think he stole it from?”
“I’m sure he filled out all the adoption papers and everything is legal.” Dalton slung open the door and picked the gray ball of fur up by the scruff of the neck. Tuff ran into the house, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder. He whined and the kitten let out a pitiful meow.
“Is it going to try to scratch my eyes out?” Becca reached her hands out.
“Don’t know, but evidently, he didn’t want this one to be raised as an only child.” Dalton pointed to a yellow-colored kitten just about the same size as the gray one sitting on the porch. “Or else he thought you and Greta each needed your own pet.” He opened the door again.
Becca picked the kitten up as it entered the house like it owned the place. It flopped over in her arms like a baby and started purring. “These have to belong to someone. We can’t keep them. We’ll get attached and then have to give them back.”
“Tell you what.” Dalton put the gray kitten in her arms with the yellow one. “Tuff and I are going to take a little walk around the block. I bet we find the owner, and I’ll ask if they want them back. How’s that?”
“Thank you,” Becca answered, but it was too late. She’d already lost her heart to the two little critters.
* * *
Dalton whistled and Tuff came out of the living room with his head hanging and tail wagging. “You did good, ole boy, but we’ve got to be sure that the owners of those two babies don’t want them back. We need to go for a little walk and find out where they came from.”
Tuff barked once and followed Dalton back to the sofa. Dalton jerked his boots on and nodded toward Becca. “Don’t name ’em until I get back.”
Tuff ran on ahead of Dalton when they stepped off the porch. Two houses down the street, he stopped, sniffed the air, hiked his leg on a bush, and then sat down.
“This isn’t going to work,” Dalton told him. “You know very well where you stole those kittens. What if there’s a third one, and we want to take it home with us?”
The dog stood up and slowly made his way to the end of the block. He sat down at the end of the porch steps of the last house on the block and yipped twice.
“Is this the place?” Dalton walked up to the door and knocked.
“Hey, Dalton, what’s up?” Frankie, one of his hired hands, asked as he rounded the side of the house.
“You got some kittens around this place?” Dalton asked. “Tuff has dragged a couple down to Greta McKay’s house.”
“Had five out in the storage shed. Gave three away last week and been tryin’ to get rid of the other two ever since. Their mama got killed on the road. If Miz Greta don’t want them, I was goin’ to ask you if you’d like to have them for barn cats. Their mama was a real good mouser,” Frankie said. “Come on inside. Want a beer?”
“Thanks. A cold one sounds good, but I’d better get on back to Miz Greta’s. Becca and I’ve got a movie on pause. I just didn’t want her to get attached to a couple of kittens if you weren’t giving them away,” Dalton said. “See you at the ranch in the morning.”
“I’ll be there bright and early,” Frankie said. “Hey, have you heard from Austin and Rye? Are they havin’ a good time?”
“Haven’t talked to
them, but Rye said he’d call in this evening to check on things,” Dalton said.
Frankie waved and went on inside. Dalton turned around and headed back down the block with Tuff right at his heels. “You done good, boy, but next time scratch on the door and ask if you can take another man’s property.”
Tuff barked a couple of times and tore off down the road like the devil was chasing him. When Dalton reached the house, the dog was sleeping under the porch swing. “I guess you figure you’ve done your good deed for the week, right?”
The dog didn’t open his eyes, but his tail thumped a few times. Dalton raised his hand to knock, but Becca threw the door open with the kittens still in her arms.
“What did you find out?”
“Frankie says he’s glad to get rid of them,” Dalton answered. “Do you think you should ask Miz Greta about them before…”
Becca butted in before he could finish his sentence. “I already did. She said she and her friends were going down to Bowie for ice cream. She’s going to pick up kitten food and litter while she’s there.”
“If you love cats so much, why haven’t you had one before now?” He followed her into the living room, kicked off his boots for the second time, and sat down on the end of the sofa.
“I lived in an apartment in Nashville that didn’t allow any pets, not even a goldfish. With four of us in a small apartment and all of us scrambling for jobs and hoping for a contract, we didn’t have time for pets anyway, and then my last roommate was allergic to everything that had fur.” She handed the gray kitten to him. “Meet George and this right here is Dolly. Grammie and I already named them.”
He took the kitten from her. “Hello, George. I betcha you got your name from those two singing ‘The Blues Man.’”
“How’d you know about that song?” Becca asked.
“My grandpa loves anything by George, and Nana is real partial to Dolly Parton.” He laid the cat up on his shoulder.
Summertime on the Ranch Page 3