The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  She closed the door and looked around her cluttered little living room. Today had been such a nice surprise. It felt so good to be wanted, especially by someone who held a prime spot in her fantasy league of men.

  She wondered if she ought to be concerned that he hadn’t said when he’d see her again. She hadn’t asked him. If she had asked, that would have made all the things she’d said today completely untrue. Like, how she wasn’t going to fall. Asking would indicate falling.

  “I’m not,” she informed Buddy. “I don’t trust him. Not yet.”

  She still couldn’t believe that this wasn’t some weird little lark for him, a side note to an otherwise healthy love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle. She’d been around the block a few times. She knew how men could be.

  And yet she drifted around the rest of the day, her head so far up in the clouds that it felt almost detached from her body, floating along while the rest of her tackled chores.

  She wasn’t any better the next day either, and she was working both jobs. First, she drove to her part-time accounting job, and Byron, from his throne in the smaller interior office, remarked that she seemed awfully chipper for an accountant in the middle of tax season. Ella had just laughed and asked if he wanted her to get some tacos for lunch. He did.

  Later, when she showed up to work at the Magnolia, Mateo kept staring at her like he knew her from somewhere but couldn’t quite place it. “What?” she asked laughingly. “Is there something on my shirt? Someone standing behind me? Wait! I know—I’ve won the Reader’s Digest sweepstakes!”

  “You look different,” he said.

  Ella glanced down at her black kilt skirt, the motorcycle boots she’d snagged off Craigslist, her flowered blouse, and the hair she had painstakingly braided into a fishtail to hang over her shoulder. “My hair is not in a knot for once,” she said, and popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth.

  “That’s not it,” he insisted, and gave her an appraising look. “You look like you’re in a good mood.”

  She burst out laughing. “That’s different?”

  “Totally,” he said. “You’re usually worrying about something. Did you maybe pay off a bill?”

  “You know I can’t pay off my bills, Mateo.” She smiled, swiped another cherry from the bar service, and went back to the hostess stand.

  She smiled all night. She was happy to see everyone who walked through the door, even the Hanleys, who had a standing Friday night reservation so they could complain about everything. She complimented outfits, welcomed people back, welcomed new people.

  Even Chrissy noticed her cheerfulness. “If you’re on something, you better share.”

  Ella wasn’t high on anything but life, and absurdly happy because of some kissing.

  The next day, she still hadn’t heard anything from Luca and still thought nothing of it. They weren’t dating. They weren’t anything other than friends.

  She was humming when she went to pick Stacy up for lunch. She pulled into the parking lot of the new beige building that housed the Cimarron County Sheriff’s Office. Stacy had been on the job a couple of weeks now, and Ella was eager to hear how she liked being gainfully employed. She probably didn’t like it, knowing Stacy, but Ella had worked on the Rodeo Rebel books last night and, after their equipment rental costs, things were pretty dismal.

  Stacy must have been watching for her out the window, because she hurried down the sidewalk in a cute yellow dress with white trim and wedge sandals. She wordlessly climbed into Ella’s car, put her voluminous bag between her feet, and dug around in it for a minute, stuffing her ID inside it.

  “What’s up?” Ella asked.

  “Why?” Stacy asked, glancing up.

  “Because you didn’t say hello and you look distracted.”

  “Oh,” Stacy said, and shook her fingers through her long, platinum hair. “It’s nothing, just this stupid job.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I hate it,” Stacy said, and looked out the window. “The sheriff is an ass. Anyway, it’s just a stupid job I have to do until we go to Nashville. Can we go?”

  Ella put her car in drive. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. But this job is not me, Ella.”

  Ella couldn’t argue with that. “It’s temporary, until you save the money to get to Nashville, right?”

  Stacy suddenly gasped. “Guess who called me this morning? The record label guy. They want us this summer!”

  “Wow,” Ella said. “Fantastic!”

  “We’re going to cut a demo tape. We’re doing ‘Promise Me,’ ‘Kissing Kate,’ and ‘You Don’t Make Me Feel.’” She began to hum “Promise Me.” Stacy really did have a beautiful voice, and when she was onstage, she was amazing. Ella had always marveled at how she could get so lost in the music, how she could completely transform herself into such a mesmerizing performer. “You should totally come,” Stacy said.

  “What, to Nashville?”

  “Move with us, Ella! You can be our manager,” Stacy said brightly.

  Ella wasn’t moving to Nashville to be Stacy’s manager. But she knew better than to say so at this point, and asked Stacy to tell her what the record guy had said.

  They chatted about that until they reached the little café in a square blue-and-white building in Three Rivers. Jalisco’s was authentic Tex-Mex cooking.

  When Ella and Stacy walked in, several heads swiveled in their direction. Stacy was strikingly beautiful with her platinum blonde locks. And she liked to show off her great legs in skimpy hemlines. She was always fighting off admirers at her gigs.

  Ella, on the other hand, was wearing cut-off shorts and a sleeveless embroidered Mexican peasant blouse that she’d picked up at the La Vallita Square one day. They’d been on an outdoor rack, going for five bucks each.

  They ordered their food and chatted about life while they ate. When they were finished, Stacy touched up her lipstick, then folded her arms across the table and said, “So? What’s going on with you?”

  To Ella’s dismay, she actually blushed. “Well, as it happens, I had a visitor.”

  “Your period?”

  “Not that kind of visitor.”

  “The police?” Stacy asked matter-of-factly.

  “No!”

  “Social worker?”

  “I’m almost thirty, Stacy. They social workers don’t come around anymore.”

  Stacy shrugged. “Then who?”

  Ella couldn’t keep the silly little smile from her face. “Prince Luca.”

  Stacy gasped. “Get out,” she said.

  “I know, right?” Ella said, beaming like a seventeen-year-old.

  “When?” Stacy demanded.

  “He showed up one morning when it was raining. He found my dog on the road, and he brought him home. And then asked if he could come in.”

  “Okay,” Stacy said, and gestured for her to speak, clearly wanting the good stuff.

  Ella’s smiled broadened. “He said he wanted to see me,” she said.

  “For what?” Stacy asked.

  Ella gaped at her. “Seriously, Stacy? Because he likes me, that’s why.”

  There was a long pause. A long pause.

  “What’s the matter, are you stunned into silence?” Ella asked. “So disbelieving that you’re speechless for once?”

  Stacy shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  Now Ella was stunned into speechlessness. “Wow, Stacy.”

  “Don’t get it twisted. Not because of you, Ella—any guy would be lucky to get you. You’re gorgeous. But we’re talking about Luca Prince. You know, the rich cowboy who, last we heard, was dating models in LA or socialites in New York? He’s not the kind of guy to hang out with people like us, so I have to wonder why he is. Like, what’s in it for him?”

  “You are not making this better,
” Ella warned her.

  Stacy took a breath. She pressed her palms to the table and said, “Ella. You’re my best friend. You are the Gayle to my Oprah—”

  “I’m Oprah,” Ella insisted.

  Stacy rolled her eyes. “I am obviously Oprah, but that’s beside the point. The point is, you’re like a sister to me. You are the most important person in my life, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I didn’t say we were dating!” Ella protested, and wished like hell she’d never brought it up. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

  “You didn’t say it, but your eyes are all twinkly, and I know how you feel about him—”

  “Felt,” Ella pointed out. “Like, twelve years ago. When I was a teenager. I’m a grown-ass woman now.”

  “Feel,” Stacy countered. “Just look at you, all giggly and smiley. I mean, I get it,” she said, pressing her hand to her décolletage. “He’s super hot. He’s a freaking charmer in chaps. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up, because he’s not going to stick around.”

  Ella’s pulse was beginning to pound at her temples. She didn’t know if she was thankful for Stacy’s honesty or pissed that Stacy thought she was obviously not worthy of Luca’s attention. “I didn’t say I was expecting him to,” she snapped. “And I’m not an idiot, Stacy. But you know what? Maybe he will. Maybe I’m not nearly the loser you think I am.”

  “El-la!” Stacy whined. “I knew you would take it the wrong way.”

  “How in God’s name am I supposed to take it?” Ella insisted.

  “You know what I’m saying. Okay, when is the last time you saw a super rich, handsome guy fall in love with a very pretty, wonderful, but poor human being, who is essentially an orphan? Who is living practically in the middle of nowhere so she doesn’t have to pay rent? Who doesn’t even have running water?”

  “I have running water!”

  “Your sink is broken and your roof leaks.”

  Ella pressed her lips together.

  “I’m just saying this sort of thing does not happen in our world. Everything that happens is because we had to claw and fight and scrape our way to it. You’re not Cinderella, and this isn’t a fucking fairy tale, trust me.”

  As furious as Ella was right now, she had to admit that Stacy had a point. She was dazzled by Luca, thrilled with his attention, but she didn’t really know him. Still, Ella didn’t like this lecture. She wasn’t a fool, and she was generally a pretty good judge of character—the bad ones gave off a vibe. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to swim around in my little fantasy while I can.” She reached for the check. “I’ve got this.”

  “No! I called you. I’ll get it—”

  “No!” Ella said loudly. She paused, glanced around at the other diners to make sure no one had heard her outburst, then leaned across the table. “I balanced your books yesterday, and you don’t have two nickels to rub together. Stop buying dresses,” she said, gesturing at the one Stacy was wearing, “and hair extensions and whatever else, or you’re not going to have enough for rent, much less enough to get to Nashville.”

  “All right, all right,” Stacy said, raising both hands in surrender. “I’m supposed to get paid Friday. And we have a gig in Dallas this weekend that should be good money.”

  “Great!” Ella said, and stood up. Usually, when she and Stacy argued, she got over it pretty quickly. They had been thrown together at the age of fifteen, the two of them against the world, and they were in this life together. But today, Ella was so annoyed she could hardly look at Stacy. She knew deep down she wasn’t right for Luca, but did Stacy have to be so damn eager to tell her so?

  Stacy stood up, too, and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Ella,” she said. “I just want you to know that I have your back.”

  Ella softened a little. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “Tact is not my strong suit,” she said with a sheepish smile. “But I really believe you’ll thank me for my honesty someday.”

  “Sure. And you’ll thank me if you follow my advice and stop spending money you don’t have.”

  “I’m fine,” Stacy said.

  At the moment, Ella didn’t care if she was fine. Stacy had rained on her parade, and she was not going to let Stacy have her moment. The funny thing was, Stacy had been like that about Mateo, too, and Mateo was hardly better off than Ella. He’s not going to stick around, she’d said to Ella one day. Definitely a love-’em-and-leave-’em guy. Ella remembered thinking that maybe he was, but she’d been enjoying it all the same. She was fond of Mateo, and they’d had fun. But it had never felt like the real deal.

  It was too early to say what Luca felt like, other than a dream.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cordelia Prince was sitting on top of Charlie’s grave, her legs stretched before her, leaning back against the overly ornate headstone Dolly had insisted on ordering. Son, husband, father, friend, it said. Anyone seeing that would think Charlie had excelled at all of them. Well, he hadn’t, and she’d come up here to remind him of the fact.

  She hated the headstone. It was weirdly ostentatious for Dolly, given that she could never stop harping on Cordelia’s designer handbags and shoes. But then again, Dolly had lost her son. She hadn’t quite been the same since, dyeing her hair purple, signing up for tai chi at the senior center, and spending hours looking through Charlie’s baby book. She was grieving as deeply as Cordelia.

  Cordelia was quietly smug in the knowledge that she’d been the saner of the two in the months since Charlie died.

  “You should see your mother,” she said aloud to Charlie’s grave. “She came home one day with purple tips in her gray hair like she’d gone all hippie. Let me tell you, it did not go unnoticed at church. It’s your fault, you know. You sent your mother over the edge by dying.” She paused, thinking about that. “Well, even more over the edge. You know what I mean.”

  She wished Charlie would answer. She wished she could hear him say, I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I was such a rotten husband. I’m sorry you loved me so much when I didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. But oh, she had loved him, and she missed him so.

  “I don’t know what to do about Nick,” she said quietly, and opened her water bottle. “Yes, it’s water,” she added absently before drinking. Hallie had told her she was drinking too much, which of course Cordelia had not taken well, because what fresh hell had she entered where her own daughter felt the need to lecture her about drinking too much? But she thought Hallie might have had a point. She had been drinking a lot since Charlie died. She’d noticed her face was getting a little puffy. It had to be the wine, because Cordelia had quit crying all the time.

  Anyway, Nick. “He’s distant. He doesn’t come around much, and when he does, he doesn’t do much talking. He seems so angry, but you know what? I don’t think he’s angry with you. I think he’s angry with me. I saw Charlotte last week, and she said he’s been a royal pain in the ass, walking around the office with a huge chip on his shoulder. You know, the way you used to get when things weren’t going your way.” She gave a snort of indignation about that. “Yep, that boy is a chip off the old block, all right.”

  Maybe that was why she loved Nick so much. It was possible that Nick was her favorite. Not that she would ever really think that, but Luca and Hallie had each other, and Nick, well . . . she had Nick.

  Cordelia loved all her children fiercely. But Nick was so much like Charlie that she’d always had a special fondness for him. Hallie was a dreamer, and it was easy to love her. Easy to worry about her, too.

  An acorn dropped from the tree and pinged Cordelia in the head. “Dammit, I know that was you,” she said, and flicked it off her lap where it had landed.

  She drank more water, and then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Luca coming out of the ranch house. He was wearing chaps over his jeans and a T-shirt. He was
carrying his hat, and his hair was brushed back. He needed a cut. Cordelia was proud of how handsome Luca was. She liked to think she’d played a significant role in turning out a child with movie-star good looks. Dolly said he looked just like Charlie’s great-grandfather, and maybe he did, but Dolly would use any opportunity to take a dig at Cordelia. Still, there was no denying that Luca was her creation.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do with him,” she said, pointing her bottle at Luca as he walked down to the stables. “Chet says he hasn’t shown up at work in weeks. Where’d we go wrong with him, Charlie? You always said he was going to surprise us, but the boy is thirty years old, and he’s spending his days riding around like he’s twelve.”

  Another acorn fell, hitting her knee.

  “You left me with so much crap,” she said suddenly. “So many things to do and so many regrets, and I am still so pissed, Charlie! We never made up!” she cried skyward. “You died thinking I hated you, and I did, but I never got to tell you that I loved you so much more!”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed them down. She was so sick of tears and regrets and trying to figure out how to carry on without him. And she was tired. So freaking tired.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the gravestone. Another acorn hit her in the chest. “I swear if you don’t cut that out, I’m going to bust this tombstone into pieces,” she muttered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Buddy was not on the porch waiting when Ella returned from town one afternoon, but the pig came trotting as fast as she could. So did the three remaining chickens, running in crazy paths behind the pig. Ella didn’t know what had happened to the other two. Lyle said probably coyotes.

  “My God, you guys are transparent,” Ella said as she lifted a box from the trunk. “Where’s Buddy?”

  No one answered, but the pig managed to get her snout all the way into the box before Ella realized what was happening.

  She fed her herd, then finished unloading her car. She was walking up the steps of the porch when Buddy came loping toward her. He had nettles in his fur and was panting, as if he’d run home through the brush. She leaned down to extricate some of the nettles from his fur, but some of them would need to be cut out. “Where the hell have you been?” she asked the smiling, panting dog.