The Cinderella Hoedown

by Sable Sylvan

  “There’s a delivery at the door,” said Herb.

  “Can’t one of you boys handle it?” asked Savina, motioning to her tummy. “I’m a bit busy baking this bun in my oven.”

  “It’s a delivery for Kelly,” said Herb.

  “A delivery? For me?” asked Kelly. “Give me a second.”

  Kelly got changed into the pantyhose, slipped her heels on, and got the purse and jacket. She pulled her hair back into a messy updo (read: a ponytail she’d pinned up and away from her face in under ten seconds) and then followed Herb and Kelly to the elevator and out to the front of the house. There didn’t seem to be anything interesting at all in front of the house.

  “Is this your idea of a joke?” asked Kelly, scanning the broad porch for a package, a delivery man, anything.

  Before Herb could answer, a man came out of one of the many fancy black cars parked in front of the house and waved.

  “Miss Kelly Dean?” asked the man.

  “Who’s askin’?” asked Kelly, arms crossed over her chest as she looked the man over. He was wearing a driver’s uniform and hat.

  “I’ve been sent by Mr. Thomas King to escort you to your date tonight,” explained the man.

  “Fancy,” said Savina, looking at the interior of the town car as Kelly situated herself in the back seat of the car. “Fresh roses, a luxury model vehicle, what more could a gal ask for?”

  “Uhm, this chocolate?” said Kelly, waving a Swiss chocolate bar in Savina’s face before pulling it back. “Enjoy that juice!”

  Kelly was driven to a house in the fancy area of Fallowedirt. Previously part of the dirt district, new homes had gone up, an eclectic mix of styles which included the Victorian with a wraparound porch that the town car stopped at.

  Kelly walked up to the door and knocked. She had no idea what to expect from a date with Thomas King, a man who had already managed to surprise her before the date had even started.

  Kelly heard the clanging of cookware inside the house, as well as a few choice swear words that made her smile. What on Earth could Thomas be doing?

  Thomas opened the door, and before he could apologize for his tardiness, what he saw took his breath away. The woman in front of him was the same smart, sassy lady he’d met that first night at The Matchstick Grill, but she was in a dress that made her look anything but cliché. Her hair was up, letting him take in her face, which was covered by a broad smile which, once he looked down, he understood the source of.

  Kelly was expecting Thomas to open the door in fancy clothes, and she hadn’t been wrong. He was dressed fancy for Fallowedirt, in a nice button-up shirt with a multicolored check pattern in shades of brown and green, some nice dark navy jeans that looked nearly brand new, and a brown belt. His hair was back, his watch was off, and he looked like he’d come out of a fashion magazine if it weren’t for a few details…like the thin layer of flour that coated the lower parts of his jeans, and the sauce splatters that had managed to hit his shirt’s sleeves.

  “Miss Kelly Dean, I do declare,” said Tom, leaning back into his charming persona. “I never would’ve thought you the type to ogle a man on a first date.”

  “And I never would’ve taken you for a man that’d step into a kitchen willingly,” said Kelly, walking into the fancy house. Seeing that Tom had his shoes off, she took the opportunity to slip her heels off in kind.

  “I consider myself a very progressive man,” teased Tom. “If a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then the way to a beautiful woman’s heart must be the same.”

  “I’ll warn you now, I’m quite a hard customer to please,” said Kelly, following Tom into the kitchen. “I’d expect you to have a full restaurant staff back here, rather than…this.” As messy as Tom’s clothing had been, it looked like Tom had quite the handle on the kitchen, with a pie in the oven, one pie cooling on a trivet, and most importantly, a bottle of red wine, open, on the counter.

  “Starting without me?” asked Kelly, motioning to the wine.

  “Cooking wine,” said Tom. “But, if you insist on punishing yourself…”

  Tom took an empty wine glass and poured the red wine into it before lifting it to Kelly’s lips. Kelly took a sip, but as she did, Tom leaned in.

  “…Why punish yourself when you can have me do it for you?” whispered Tom, and Kelly nearly spat out her wine in shock.

  “Whoa there,” said Kelly. “Slow down, cowboy.”

  “Oh, I forgot, someone doesn’t like being a romance cliché,” said Tom. “Well, hopefully you don’t find this meal to be too cliché.”

  “What exactly is on the menu for tonight?” asked Kelly.

  “I could answer that in such a naughty way, but I’ll spare you my fantasies,” said Tom sarcastically, even though there was a kernel of truth in his statement. “I’ve decided to make you a meal consisting of my favorite foods from my heritage.”

  “Your heritage?” asked Kelly.

  “Well, I’m the out of town doctor,” said Tom. “I must be from somewhere out of this town.”

  “I thought that meant, like, Dallas,” said Kelly.

  “Try New Orleans. I’m French, by way of Canada, and if you think I’m a stereotype, then darlin’, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” said Tom with a fake cowboy drawl. “I’m Acadian, through and through, and it’s a miracle I’m not a lumberjack like some of my cousins up in Port Jameson, Oregon.”

  “So tonight’s menu is, what, baguettes and frog legs?” asked Kelly.

  “You joke, but it nearly was,” said Tom. “Hard getting that out here, so I did what I could with what I could. You like shellfish?”

  “Love it,” said Kelly.

  “Good,” said Tom. “I’ve got some crawfish pie for you to try…and in case you didn’t like shellfish, I made you coq au vin.”

  “Now what did I tell you about talking about your cock at the dinner table?” asked Kelly.

  “Literal cock,” said Tom. “The bird. It’s chicken with wine and vegetables.”

  “So a model’s diet?” asked Kelly.

  “You’re the plus size model. You tell me,” said Tom.

  “Me, a model?” asked Kelly. “Come on.”

  “Can’t believe I forgot. You do prefer to be painting rather than painted, don’t you?” asked Tom.

  “I’m not an artist,” said Kelly, crossing her arms.

  “You’re not an artist, can’t believe I forgot that, too,” said Tom. “You’re just a girl who’s spending her summer painting.”

  “Whatever. What else did you make?” asked Kelly, changing the topic.

  “The last dish is a surprise,” said Tom.

  Tom and Kelly sat at the fancy dining room table which Tom had not only covered in a banquet of food but properly set himself, with napkins, glasses, and plates all laid out. He didn’t sit until he’d poured Kelly red wine, but this time, it wasn’t from the cooking wine bottle.

  Kelly tried the coq au vin first. The chicken was tender and nearly melted in her mouth. She wasn’t usually a fan of carrots and mushrooms and onions, but the wine had infused the vegetables with a berry-rich, tannic flavor, and she found herself reaching for seconds before she’d had a chance to try the crawfish pie. The crawfish pie had a buttery, flaky crust and was filled with lumps of succulent, buttery crawfish, with not a single shell to be found in the entire pie. Red and green onions and spicy seasoning gave the dish an extra level of dimension and some heat that had Kelly reaching for her wine.

  The wine, deep and dark, was different than the box wine Kelly was used to drinking with her friends after a long week. This wine had layers of coffee, of mocha, and of cherry.

  “What is this wine?” asked Kelly.

  “You like it?” asked Tom.

  “I love it,” said Kelly. “I want to get it again.”

  “Then you’re going to be out of luck because they don’t make that wine anymore,” said Tom. “That’s a Majestueux Vigne 1740.”

  “This was only seventee
n bucks?” asked Kelly, looking at the deep purplish red wine.

  “No…this wine is from 1740,” said Tom.

  Again, Kelly nearly did a spit take, but she realized the wine was far too expensive for that to be appropriate. She drank the sip of wine and looked over Tom for any sign he was joking.

  “It’s…over a quarter of a century old?” asked Kelly.

  “Fun fact, nobody in America ever tried this wine when it first came out,” said Tom.

  “How do you know that?” asked Kelly.

  “Because America as we know it wasn’t a thing when this wine was first released to the public,” said Tom.

  “And you’re busting this priceless wine out for a first fuckin’ date?” asked Kelly, before covering her mouth for cursing.

  “Miss Kelly Dean, I never,” said Tom. “You best wash your mouth out…with wine, though, not the seashell soap in the bathroom.” He poured her another glass of wine.

  “I can’t,” said Kelly.

  “You must,” said Tom. “After all, it’s a special occasion.”

  “It is?” asked Kelly.

  “My grandma gave me this bottle,” said Tom. “She told me to open it and drink it when the time was right…that it should be the first bottle I share with my fated mate.”

  “Tom, what are you saying?” asked Kelly.

  “I’m saying that when a bear knows, he knows,” said Tom. “Trust me, Kelly. I’ve been on a lot of dates. A lot of first dates. You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted to take on a second. My only regret is not taking this bottle with me that night to share with you at that restaurant before leaving with you before anyone else could get to meet you. After all, what kind of man, what kind of shifter could resist a woman with your sass and your curves?”

  Kelly knew that Tom was joking, but his joke made her heart sink. The problem wasn’t regarding what shifter could resist her. The problem was that one too many hadn’t. Tom was committed to the idea that Kelly was his fated mate, but Kelly had a sense that Jeff was too, even if he hadn’t said so in so many words, even if he hadn’t said it with a bottle of priceless wine that was older than their country.

  “I don’t know,” said Kelly. “But I’m glad you’re not one of them.” To that, Tom and Kelly shared a clinking of glasses before they dug back into their food…but the nagging feeling that she was doing something wrong, that voice in the back of Kelly’s head, they both lingered.

  Chapter Six

  Curled up on the couch, watching one of the Western movies Tom had bought for the occasion, eating the cardamom and rose infused beignets that Tom had made as their dessert surprise, Kelly felt as if she was making the right decision. Being in Tom’s arms was more comfortable than being wrapped up in any blanket. His muscular, firm arms were as strong as his torso was downright hot. As the milkmaid on screen finally admitted her feelings to the bad boy cowboy that had protected her throughout the movie, Kelly looked up to see Tom’s reaction to the scene. Upon sensing Kelly’s eyes on him, Tom looked down and saw the curvy goddess in his arms looking at him expectantly.

  Tom propped Kelly back up and turned, wrapping a hand through her hair before hiking her leg up around his side. He pulled Kelly close. They didn’t even need to say anything. He knew what she wanted, as it was identical to the desire he wanted.

  Kelly sat up on Tom’s lap, straddling him, facing him and his deep green eyes. In them, she swore she could see the deep green vineyards of his people’s homeland. She explored his jet-black hair with her fingers and pulled herself closer to him. She pressed her lips against his, and instantly felt electricity. It was proof the connection they had was real, was primal. After all, they hadn’t even had to talk about this. They’d both known what they wanted, right?

  But as Kelly was pulled further onto Tom’s lap, and felt something hard and throbbing brush against her evidence of desire, she knew that she had to stop herself from doing precisely what she wanted.

  Kelly wanted to go all the way, but a nagging voice in the back of her head told her it wasn’t right. The voice told her to think of the person that wasn’t there, the person who she owed an explanation to…but at the same time, Kelly wasn’t sure which of the werebears she’d end up choosing.

  Kelly pulled away from Tom and forced her lips off of his. It felt unnatural, it felt anything but right, but she knew the only thing more wrong would be doing this, taking that next step with one of the bears before telling the other that he was out of the running.

  “I…I can’t go further,” said Kelly. “Not tonight.”

  “Oh?” asked Tom.

  “I…I have some indigestion,” lied Kelly. “Sorry if that’s lame, but…”

  “No, no, don’t worry,” asked Tom. He pressed the back of his hand to Kelly’s forehead.

  “Uh…what are you doing?” asked Kelly.

  “I don’t stop being a doctor after five,” said Tom. “I’m checking your temperature. If you’ve got an upset stomach, you may have come down with something.”

  “I misspoke,” said Kelly. “I think the rich food is just playing games with my insides. That’s all. If anything, after all that fat and butter, I’m due for a case of the gout.”

  “Ha-ha,” said Tom sarcastically, pulling his hand from Kelly’s forehead. “If you do end up needing something, you’ll let me know, right? I don’t know if you know this, Kelly, but…I am a doctor.”

  “Ha-ha,” said Kelly, equally sarcastically. “Let’s just watch the movie, cowboy.”

  She turned the movie back on, and within a few minutes, she found Tom’s arm around her shoulders.

  For a few minutes, Kelly wondered if she should shrug Tom’s arm off, if she should move to the other side of the couch. After all, if she was interested in Jeff, wasn’t it messed up that she was on a couch with Tom, watching a romantic movie?

  The little voice that told her to doubt what she was doing was silenced by a sassier voice. The sassy voice reminded Kelly there was a difference between going to the bone zone with a guy and cuddling up to watch a film. After all, Kelly had cuddled up to watch movies with her friends. Heck, she and Savina had watched countless edgy films together as teenagers, sitting on the couch eating popcorn and grabbing each other to squeal when the two dark horse characters finally kissed.

  The little voice popped up again and told Kelly there was a huge frikkin’ difference between cuddling with a fully grown shifter male looking to claim a fated mate and hanging out with one of her best gal pals. After all, Savina hadn’t been trying to claim Kelly as her fated mate. Although Tom was playing the part of the nice guy who just wanted to cuddle, men only had one thing on their minds, and shifters, well, they had two: getting their dicks wet…and finding their fated mates.

  “Y’know, it’s getting kinda late,” said Kelly.

  “Yeah? You know…we have the house all night,” Tom whispered into Kelly’s ear.

  For a split second, Kelly nearly broke her promise to herself to not take things further with Tom or Jeff until she’d broken things off with the other…and then, Kelly remembered she hadn’t even made her choice yet. As tempting as it was to go with the easy option, the option that was right there in all his glory, Kelly knew she had to do the right thing.

  “I think I should head home,” said Kelly. “I’m doing more volunteer work for the hoedown tomorrow, and I want to get up bright and early because I’m meeting with my friend for coffee beforehand.” It wasn’t technically a lie…but technically, Kelly could afford to stay over, and the promise of a fulfilling night with Tom would energize her more than a white mocha could.

  “It’s late,” said Tom, looking at his watch. “And…you didn’t drive here.”

  “Shit,” said Kelly. “You’re right. Did you drive?”

  “I took a taxi,” said Tom. “I’d taken a shot for nerves back at the ranch.”

  Kelly did a double take. She’d manage to give Tom, rich boy, city-slicker, worldly Cajun doctor Tom, a case of nerves? Well, no
w, she’d heard everything.

  “So I’m stuck here tonight?” asked Kelly.

  “Not quite,” said Tom. “We have two options. I can walk you back to your place, or…I could give you a ride.”

  “I thought said you didn’t drive here,” said Kelly, confused.

  “I’m a shifter, baby,” said Tom. “Let me work my shifter magic.”

  The usage of that phrase sent an electric shock Kelly’s up spine. It was the same phrase Jeff had used. These shifter men were serious about their shifts, weren’t they? But, Kelly hadn’t expected Tom to be one to play the shifter card, especially on a first date.

  “What do you have planned?” asked Kelly, slipping her heels back on.

  “Come with me,” said Tom. “It’s easier to show you.”

  Tom took Kelly by the hand and she didn’t pull away. Tom’s paw prints felt rough against her skin, but the imprint of the paw against her palm didn’t hurt. It just felt different than a normal human hand…and different than Jeff’s hand had felt. Even though they were both bears, their paw prints felt different, unique. Kelly was sure that if she’d been blindfolded, she would’ve been able to tell their hands apart, and that’s part of what bothered her. It was too soon for her to have these feelings for one guy, but having these feelings for two alpha male shifters willing to do anything to earn her hand as their fated mate made it even worse.

  Kelly followed Tom out to the backyard. When they got to the patio, Tom let go of Kelly’s hand.

  “Wait a second, and uh…close your eyes,” said Tom. “Don’t peek.”

  Kelly kept her hands clasped over her eyes. She nearly opened her eyes when she heard the tell-tale unbuckling of a belt and unzipping of a zipper, but instead, she just frowned and tried to figure out what sort of trick Tom was playing on her. If he was expecting to get some that night, he was about to be sorely disappointed, and Kelly wasn’t afraid to tell him so. He might be a big, bad bear shifter, but Kelly was a BBW with more than a little sass to spare, and she knew how to tell a man not only what to do, but who he was and where he came from.