Cowboy Charming

by Dylann Crush

  “Right.” Dixie crossed her arms over her chest, obviously her second favorite thing to do around him after frowning.

  “Two, she’s got a bed in the back and she’s either living in it or operating a mobile call-girl service.”

  “Really?” The furrowed brow should have warned him he was treading on dangerous ground, but he pressed on.

  “Hey, in my experience, that’s the way it goes.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

  “So which one am I?” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Am I hiding my gaggle of unruly children and looking for a sugar daddy, or am I a prostitute on wheels?”

  “Well”—damn, let the backpedaling begin—“I didn’t mean you.”

  “Riiiiiiiiiiiight.” She drew out the word a few beats too long. “Can we get out of here before all the neighbors come out to get a good look?”

  Presley glanced out the window. Mrs. Mitchell stood on her front porch, raising her hand in a tentative wave. He nodded and lifted the brim of his hat. Upon further inspection, a few more neighbors either peered through open curtains or had cracked their front doors and shot curious gazes their way.

  “Afraid your neighbors will spread rumors about us?” He turned the key over in the ignition.

  “Too late for that.”

  She was probably right. Living in a town the size of Holiday had its perks. But there were some cons too. He’d been the target of the town’s rumor mill on many occasions. He didn’t mind, actually got a kick out of the way the truth got twisted and torqued into something barely resembling itself by the time it made its way back around to him. But Dixie wouldn’t be able to shield herself from the knowing glances, the whispers behind her back, or the brazen personal attacks if things got out of hand. He’d have to be careful about giving folks the wrong impression that there was something going on between them.

  They drove through town in silence with just the faint sound of the country station from San Antonio keeping them company. As they reached the edge of town, Presley pulled into the abandoned dairy parking lot.

  “Why are you stopping? We need to get back.” Dixie twisted in her seat to face him. Damn if the sun filtering through the window behind her didn’t make her look like a fucking angel.

  He shook the image out of his head and opened his door. “Time for you to take the wheel. Let’s see how rusty you are.”

  “No, I can’t.” By the time he walked around and opened her door, her face had pinked. “It’s not necessary, really. I’m sure I can use Charlie’s truck, or maybe Shep will let me borrow his car.”

  Presley leaned across her to unbuckle her seat belt. She drew in a breath and froze. As his fingers pushed on the release button, his gaze met hers. Fear, apprehension, and possibly something else made her eyes widen. His heart skipped like the stones he used to skim down at the riverbed. Could be the sweet smell of chocolate-chip cookies that clung to her. Could be the way she trapped that swollen lower lip with her teeth. Could be the sheer proximity of her chest to his. Whatever it was, he didn’t have the time or the balls to go exploring that sensation. Dixie King was off-limits.

  He firmed his inner resolve as he backed away and stepped off the running board. “Just give it a shot. Show me what you’ve got.”

  “Fine.” She brushed past him to round the Jeep.

  Dixie adjusted the seat forward while he got settled in the passenger seat. She fastened her seat belt then put both hands on the wheel.

  “Aren’t you going to buckle up?” she asked.

  “I’ll be fine. You remember which one the clutch is? Far left?” He pointed to her feet. “Just push on the clutch then ease the stick shift into first gear.”

  She gritted her teeth and did as he said.

  “Now I’m going to release the parking brake and you give it a little gas.” He let the brake go and waited for Dixie to find the release point between letting the clutch go and pressing on the gas.

  The entire vehicle lurched once, twice, then stalled out. His body flew forward, his stitched-up side colliding with the dash.

  “Dammit!” He splayed his fingers over his ribs.

  Dixie’s hands covered her face. “I told you I didn’t want to do this.”

  He hissed a breath in through his teeth and pulled his seat belt across his middle. “You’re a little rusty, that’s all. Let’s try it again.”

  “I’m sure Charlie left Sully’s old truck at the Rose. I’ll take that. It’ll be fine, I know—”

  “Sully’s old truck is at the shop. You’ve got this. Just put your foot on the clutch or put it in neutral before you turn the engine over.” He nodded toward the key.

  “They don’t even make stick shifts anymore, do they?” She continued to argue while she pressed on the clutch and turned the key.

  “It’s a life skill. Like how to make grilled cheese and how to French kiss.”

  She popped the clutch, and the Jeep shot forward again. He was prepared this time.

  “You can’t say stuff like that while I’m concentrating. Besides, I make a mean grilled cheese. Just ask my gram.” Her jaw set, and fire blazed in those jade-green eyes.

  “Okay, duly noted.” He waited until she was ready to try again, all too aware that she hadn’t addressed the comment about knowing how to French kiss.

  The Jeep lurched forward, stopping and starting but not stalling out.

  “Good! Just ease off the clutch. Give it a little more gas.” He coached her through the start, and the vehicle eased forward a few feet.

  “I’m doing it!” She laughed out loud, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

  “You sure are.” The engine revved. “Now, clutch in, shift into second, and press on the gas while you ease off the clutch.”

  She did just that, and they picked up some speed. “It’s coming back to me.”

  “See? You’re doing great.” Presley offered encouragement as she navigated through figure eights across the parking lot. A look of pure joy lit her face from within. When she wasn’t frowning at something he said or did, she positively glowed.

  She slowed to a stop and put the engine in neutral. “I did it.” Her smile hit him like a ray of sunshine, lighting up his chest until it seemed like warmth flowed through his veins.

  “You sure did. Now how about you drive us back to the Rose and take SoCal on a tour of town?”

  “Right.” Her smiled dimmed at the reminder of their ultimate goal, and he wanted to kick himself for taking away some of her shine. But business was business. Neither one of them was in this for pleasure.

  “I’ve got to ask you one more question.” His stomach clenched, not sure if he really wanted to go through this next bit with Dixie.

  She turned toward him, waiting. “What?”

  “You do know how to French kiss, right?” His hands immediately went up, protecting himself from the inevitable slap that was sure to follow a question like that.

  Instead, she gripped the wheel, her knuckles going white from the effort. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

  “If things go well, you know SoCal is going to make a move on you. Remember, he’s from the land of bikinis and beaches. I just want you to be ready for it, that’s all.”

  Her shoulders sagged as she turned to face forward. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “Okay, as long as you’re good to go.” He nudged his chin toward the road. “All right. Then let’s get back. It’s probably better if we don’t lock lips. It’ll be easier to keep things business related.”

  Her hair flew around her shoulders as she whirled to face him. “You think a kiss from you would scramble my brain, make me lose track of the goal at hand?”

  Presley gave a slight shrug. “It’s been known to happen.”

  “Get over yourself. You’re not the gift to women that you think you are.”

&
nbsp; A chuckle escaped. She seemed so serious. “Never said I was.”

  “I’ve kissed plenty of boys.” Dixie’s lower lip stuck out in a pout.

  “I’m sure you have. But we’re not talking about boys here, we’re talking about men.” At the mention of the word men, her head snapped up. “As far as I know, you haven’t been involved with anyone in quite a while. Do you really want your first kiss back out there, your warm-up kiss, to be the one you lay on SoCal?”

  Her throat rose and fell as she swallowed and peered out the driver’s-side window. “You kissed me last night.”

  “Yeah, but that didn’t really count.”

  “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.” Her eyes rolled skyward. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

  “Great, we’ll get the awkward stuff out of the way. Then when SoCal leans in, you’ll be ready for it. Sound good?” He leaned his seat back a couple notches and clasped his hands behind his head. “Go for it, Dixie Mae. Give me what you’ve got.” As he waited, anticipating the moment her sweet lips would touch his, he reminded himself this was for research, for the Rose, a boost for Dixie’s self-esteem. This had nothing to do with his recent appreciation of his fiery partner.

  Hand pressed flat on the seat next to him, she leaned over the stick shift. “This is crazy.” Her gaze swept over his face while she flicked her tongue over that full bottom lip. Uh-oh. Things began to stir under his waistband. She leaned closer, her breath catching, her mouth so close to his. He closed his eyes, eager with anticipation. Much more eager than he should be for a kiss based purely on research.

  Then the slightest flutter brushed against his lips. He wanted to open his eyes and tell her that kiss was the kind she’d give to her sister. But before he could, her lips were back on his, tentative, testing. It was the hottest kiss he’d ever had, and they hadn’t even tangled tongues yet. His hand moved to cradle her head. She tilted her face to meet his mouth with hers again and again.

  The arm she’d been resting on began to shake, and he pulled her over the center console, needing to be closer, wanting to feel all of her pressed against him. She’d started it, but he took control. He deepened the kiss, wanting to taste her. She parted her lips for him, and he savored the lingering sweetness of chocolate-chip cookies on her tongue. A groan began in the back of his throat. He shifted his hips, trying to make more room for her in the bucket seat. His hands roamed over her clothes. God, he wanted to feel her skin.

  A thought that maybe things were going too far knocked at the edges of his brain. But then her fingers found their way under the edge of his shirt. She shifted positions, moving to half-straddle him as she tentatively moved her hands over his abs.

  He reached a hand down to the seat lever. The seat slammed backward, putting him almost horizontal. Dixie’s lips stayed with his, and she stretched out on top of him, lifting his shirt to fully expose his chest. The need to have her skin on his consumed him, and he focused all of his attention on easing her shirt up, higher and higher, until she’d pulled her arms through and it hung around her neck like a scarf. With the barrier out of the way, his hands roamed freely, skimming the soft skin over her ribs then lingering at the underwire barrier of her bra. He eased a finger underneath. Her kiss deepened. Two fingers. She moaned. With a quick flick, he released the hook and cupped her bare breast with his hand.

  At the same moment, a horn blared. Presley looked up as a semi roared by.

  Dixie froze for a split second then dove into the driver’s seat. “Oh my gosh. Someone saw us! What in the world are we doing?” She shoved her arms back through her armholes and pulled her tank down. Her bra still hung from her shoulders, making her shirt stick out in front.

  “Calm down. Nobody saw anything. You okay?” Presley raised his seat back and yanked his shirt down.

  “I can’t believe this.” Dixie tried to fasten her bra behind her, fumbling with the strap. The color of her cheeks almost matched the pink of her shirt.

  “Let me help.” Presley took hold of the strap, easily hooking it back together. “It was just a trucker. He probably saw something happening and wanted to be an ass. Nobody knows it was you and me.”

  “Well, they know it was you. Who else drives a huge Jeep like this?”

  “Settle down. It’s going to be fine.” He took in a deep breath. Dammit, he was still hard. Shifting in his seat, he tried to catch her flailing arms in his hands.

  “This is all your fault.” She whirled to face him. “You and your stupid kiss critique.”

  “Hey, it was your idea. And if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re more than ready for a peck from SoCal.”

  She stilled, and the glare she gave him could have burned through the metal bumper on the back of his Jeep and then some.

  Without another word, she slammed the Jeep into gear. The vehicle shimmied while she tried to find the catch point between the gas and the clutch then shot onto the highway.

  It was for the best. He and Dixie worked better when that thin, hostile veil sat between them as opposed to the chemistry he’d uncovered and would now need to try to avoid.

  Chapter Ten

  Dixie smoothed her hands over the hem of her top while she skimmed the crowd, searching for Chandler. What had gotten into her back there? She’d never felt that kind of thrill before. So titillating, so forbidden, so…she searched for the right word. Wrong. What had happened between her and Presley was just plain wrong. Presley was the kind of man to fantasize over—the kind to inspire wicked daydreams and restless nights—not the kind of man Dixie needed in real life. She needed someone stable, someone who wanted to settle down—basically the polar opposite of a guy like Presley.

  Thankfully he disappeared as soon as they got to the Rose. He was probably out back by the stage, getting ready to announce the next band. Amen for that. She hadn’t spent much time before today alone with the man. Seeing him dwarf her gram’s front room and the one-on-one driving lesson had thrown her off a bit. Presley had charm oozing out of his pores and knew how to turn it on at will. She should know better than to let it affect her. The poor sorority sisters that hung around him like a pack of groupies were a whole different story. She’d just keep reminding herself of that every time she had to spend more than a microsecond with him.

  As she nodded to herself, solidifying her inner resolve, a hand landed on the small of her back. Goose bumps pebbled her skin. She whirled around, a searing scolding on the tip of her tongue, ready to unleash on Presley Walker.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Chandler smiled down at her, a teasing spark in his eyes.

  She let out a gasp. “Sorry, you caught me off guard.” Why was a teeny part of her disappointed it wasn’t Presley standing behind her? She wadded that thought up like a used tissue and tossed it aside.

  Chandler’s hand lingered on her waist. “You ready to show me around?”

  “Of course.” Dixie slipped back into friendly hostess mode. She might have lost some of her enthusiasm for taking Chandler on that tour, but she wouldn’t let it affect the good manners her mama had instilled. “The Jeep’s parked around by the side. Let’s get going.”

  Chandler followed her down the hall and out the side door. Presley’s Jeep sat next to a mesquite tree, sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. He must have run it through the car wash before he picked her up. How had she not noticed that before?

  “Let me get the door for you.” Chandler’s long strides let him reach the door before her. He held it open while she climbed inside and settled herself in the driver’s seat.

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks burned at the memory of what she and Presley had done in that exact same vehicle not even twenty minutes before. A mistake, it was just a mistake. Dixie refocused, trying to remember Presley’s lesson as Chandler rounded the front of the Jeep and climbed in next to her. Clutch in, brake off. Ease off the clutch and onto the gas.

&nbs
p; “Thanks again for taking me around town. I think I’ve got the prettiest tour guide in Texas.” Chandler pulled the door shut and buckled up.

  Dixie’s stomach flip-flopped. Her vision blurred. Why had she parked so close to the side of the building? What if she took out a wall or, even worse, Angelo’s barbecue spit?

  “You ready?” Chandler’s hand landed on her thigh.

  His touch surprised her. Enough that her foot slammed on the gas. Enough that she accidentally threw the gear shift into first and let go of the steering wheel. Enough that the Jeep flew forward, crashing through the split-rail fence of Pork Chop’s pigpen.

  It all happened so fast, she didn’t have time to react. Before she had a chance to gather her wits about her, Chandler’s hands brushed the hair out of her face.

  “Are you okay?” His voice came from far away, like the end of a long tunnel. She saw his lips move, but they seemed out of sync with his words.

  As the realization of what had just happened tiptoed into her conscious mind, she put her hands over her eyes. “Oh my gosh. What have I done?”

  “You okay?” Chandler pressed.

  She took a quick inventory. “Yes, I’m fine. But the Jeep…and the fence…”

  Her fingers spread, giving her a first look at the damage she’d caused. The Jeep rested on top of the smashed fence rails. Pork Chop hunkered down in the far corner of the pen. She’d probably scared the oink right out of the poor pig.

  “That’s a hell of a way to start a tour.” Chandler grinned, obviously unharmed. “Should we see what kind of damage we need to deal with?”

  “You’re okay?”

  “I’ve been through much worse. Come on, I’ll help you down.” He held out a hand, and she scrambled over the center console to exit through the passenger door.

  Standing next to him, she evaluated the sorry state of the fence line. At least the Jeep didn’t seem to be dinged up. Presley would probably never forgive her if she left a lasting impression on his babe magnet.