“We survived and we’re here now. Better off, and better men.”
“Just because things are easier now doesn’t mean we’ve calmed down any.” He heard Gracie in the background and he added, “At least I haven’t calmed down. You’re whipped. We all know that.”
“I wouldn’t be throwing stones. You’re well on your way based on what I heard tonight.”
“Like hell. I’m a maverick, bro. And I intend to stay that way. The sooner the women in this town realize that, the better. Not that it matters now. They’ll have to stop chasing because I’m officially off the market.”
“And there it is. The real reason for tonight.”
“Hey, I was going to hit the road, but now I’ve got to stick around for who knows how long. I had to do something. I’ve got Vegas coming up in three weeks. Do you know what happened when I tried to get in a few rides at the arena yesterday? Kaylie Johnson showed up. And Betty Rainey. And Shannon Frazier. And that’s not even the worst of it. Shannon brought a peach cobbler. And you know how much I love peach cobbler.”
“Don’t tell me you ate it.”
“No, but I came damn close. Luckily Eli was going to see his sweetie for a date and so I passed it off to him just to get it out of my sight. Otherwise, I would have eaten the whole damned thing and given that poor girl a lot of false hope. This way I won’t be eating anybody’s peach cobbler.”
“And what about Nikki? What about her cobbler?”
He thought of Nikki’s comments about the food at the wedding. “She doesn’t do cobblers, so I think I’m good.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Every woman has a good cobbler in her. If the right man comes along.”
But Cole wasn’t the right man. Not even close. Which was why she’d managed to put on the brakes when he’d been ready to go balls to the wall in the sack.
No, she had other things on her mind at this point in her life, and so she was in no hurry to complicate their arrangement.
That’s what he told himself, but damned if he believed it. Something else was holding her back. He just didn’t know what it was. Not that he was going to waste brain power trying to figure it out.
This wasn’t about sex.
“I know this is a little hard to understand, but Nikki and I are helping each other out, at least until I roll out of town. Then we’ll make a public split and it’ll all be over. Listen, bro, keep it quiet, okay?”
“You can trust me.”
But Cole already knew that. There were only a handful of people that he could put his faith in and Jesse was at the top of the list. And Billy. And Pete. Beyond that, Cole didn’t place any bets.
“So where’s the money?” he asked, eager to change the subject.
Jesse went quiet and Cole started to worry that his oldest brother wasn’t going to let the subject drop. But finally his voice carried over the line. “Still out at Big Earl’s place. I didn’t have a chance to stash it at my place before the ceremony, and then it was late when we finished up. Casey is dropping it by in the morning.”
“And expecting a cut.”
“She knows she’s not getting a penny of this money. I’m paying her out of my own pocket for keeping her mouth shut and helping us.”
“I’ll pay half.”
“Don’t even think about it. I know you’re only agreeing to all of this because of me.”
“I just don’t see that it’s going to change anything. We are who we are.”
“It might change how people see us.”
But other people’s opinions weren’t Cole’s problem. He knew who he was. What he was. That was the real problem.
Before he could dwell on the sobering thought, Jesse’s voice drew his attention. “Since you’re stuck here, we need to make the most of it. We don’t have too many good broncs on hand at the training facility, but I know where I can get a few to tide you over. That is, if you manage to drag your lazy ass out of Nikki Barbie’s bed.”
“More like off her couch.” When he finally managed to settle down, that is. As it was, he needed to move, to breathe in some fresh air and get his body back in check.
“Trouble in paradise already?”
“Something like that.”
Jesse’s voice grew quiet for a long moment before he said, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.” Cole fought down a wave of misgivings and the crazy urge to waltz into the kitchen just to see what Nikki had cooking. It didn’t matter how good it smelled, he wasn’t interested. He didn’t do that froufrou crap. He liked good old-fashioned home cooking. Something substantial. Like meat and potatoes and cobbler. Lots of cobbler.
“Listen,” he went on, eager to kill the thought, “call Casey and tell her I’m picking up the money tonight. There’s no sense in waiting until morning when I’ve got some time on my hands right now.” Cole hung up the phone and listened to Nikki move around in the kitchen. The delicious aroma that drifted down the hallway grew more intense. More enticing. His nostrils flared as he climbed out of bed.
He slipped on his shirt and jeans, and barely resisted the urge to head for the kitchen. As hungry as he was, for her and the food, he wasn’t about to pursue either. His “marriage” was all about eliminating the distractions.
And that’s what he intended to do by getting the hell out of here before he did something crazy like waltz into the kitchen, lift her up onto the nearest counter and slide fast, sure and deep inside her warm body.
He stiffened against the notion, pulled on his boots, grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
6
HE WAS GONE.
The truth echoed in Nikki’s head as the door slammed shut and the walls of the kitchen rattled. A rush of disappointment went through her.
Hello? It’s not like he’s going to stick around for pancakes and eggs.
Sure, they were married but in theory only. There would be no hot, frantic sex, no late-night cuddling afterward, no mornings spent chatting over the breakfast table.
He would do his thing and she would do hers.
Which, at the moment, was a technically difficult sauce that seemed to be kicking her butt.
She needed more butter. And some heavy cream. And just a hint of parsley.
Seriously, it’s not like she’d expected him to duck in and say goodbye. He didn’t have to document every time he went out in the middle of the friggin’ night just because they’d said “I do.”
Sure, she was his wife. But she wasn’t his wife.
She fought down another sliver of disappointment and adjusted the fire on the burner. Time to perfect her sauce. And then maybe try her hand at a crepe. But not just any crepe. One loaded with strawberries and fresh cream and a berry reduction.
Not too sweet, but plenty sweet enough to sate the sudden hunger that twisted at her insides.
Once upon a time, maybe.
But thinking about strawberries and cream when all she really wanted was a piece of her late grandmother’s decadent chocolate cake made her stomach grumble that much more.
Her attention went to a nearby cabinet and the recipe box she knew was stashed inside. A few feet, a quick reach and she would be on her way to a nice, big, rich piece of chocolate goodness. But it was late and she really was busy.
Too busy doing what she knew she should do instead of what she wanted to.
“You’re different, Nikki girl. You ain’t like your momma and your sisters. You got heart. Drive. You’re the sweetest child in this whole world and it’ll take you far. Don’t give up on your dreams just ’cause somebody tells you to.”
A sweet child with a sweet tooth thanks to her grandmother Ruth who’d whipped up the richest, most decadent desserts in town and sold them to the local eating establishments. Nikki had lic
ked the bowl one too many times to count when Ruth had been busy working on a particular order for the local diner or the weekly Lion’s Club luncheon.
Recipes she’d once made for her husband who’d never appreciated them near as much as any paying customer. He’d left her despite her way around the kitchen and she’d been stuck raising Raylene on her own.
She’d done her best, using her decadent desserts to make ends meet, but times had still been rough. Not only financially, but emotionally. The break-up had happened when Raylene had been young and impressionable, and Nikki’s mother had never been able to forgive the father who’d deserted her. She’d grown up with a serious distrust of men, and a determination to make it without one.
And she’d raised her daughters to do the same.
She didn’t want them to be mild and meek like her own mother. The type of woman who caught her man cheating and, instead of kicking him out, baked him his favorite dessert to bribe him to stay.
A homemade chocolate cake with Dr. Pepper frosting.
Nikki’s favorite.
Not that her mother knew as much. Grammy Ruth had given her the recipe box when she’d been just six. For safekeeping, the woman had said just weeks before she’d had a massive heart attack, as if she’d known her days were numbered.
Nikki had stashed the box in the back of her closet, but she’d never forgotten it. She’d thought of the recipes too many times to count, but she’d never actually made anything.
Because of her mother.
Raylene would have freaked if she’d caught Nikki making one of Ruth’s recipes, and so she’d left the recipe box alone to keep the peace with her mother.
She certainly hadn’t ignored it all these years because it brought back too many happy memories. Of a better time when she hadn’t felt so isolated. So different.
Because her grammy had accepted her for who’d she’d been, and loved her anyway. And remembering only made going through the motions now that much more difficult.
She ditched the thought and focused her attention on unwrapping two sticks of butter.
Besides, a Dr. Pepper cake wasn’t going to land her an internship at a Michelin-starred restaurant. She needed real food for that. Sophisticated, refined offerings that wowed the palate and taste buds.
Which was why she’d altered her eating habits way back when and started stopping off for lunch at various restaurants in Austin whenever she picked up supplies for the honky-tonk. She’d experimented with food, tasting everything from duck confit to foie gras. And she’d even learned to like most of it. To the point that her mouth no longer watered for the decadent cake.
Most of the time.
Her stomach hollowed out and she reached for the butter. Her hands trembled as she unwrapped yet another stick and fought the urge to haul down the recipe box. Not no, but hell no. She’d sampled enough of the forbidden for one night.
Time to toss the half-eaten fruit, get the hell out of Eden and walk the straight and narrow directly to her dream job. Her finals and then Houston.
She’d already applied for three positions, the first of which she should be hearing back on in just a matter of days.
All the more reason to buckle down and focus. And forget.
The Dr. Pepper frosting and Cole Chisholm.
* * *
FORGETTING WAS DAMNED hard to do when she kept being reminded of what a hunk she’d married last night.
How good-looking.
How sexy.
How decadent.
Nikki peeked past the door of her bedroom to see him stretched out on her couch.
He’d not only come back last night, but he’d peeled off everything but his jeans and was now flat on his back, half-naked right in front of her. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of his breathing and her gaze riveted on the silky brown hair that ran from nipple to nipple before narrowing to a delicious vee that disappeared into the waistband of his low-slung denim.
A shadow covered his jaw and his hair was mussed as if he hadn’t slept any more soundly than she had.
He hadn’t.
She’d heard the door just a few minutes after she’d finally called it a night, the squeak of springs as he’d settled on her sofa, the thud of boots as he’d tossed them nearby, her own disappointed sigh because he hadn’t so much as knocked on her door.
While she wasn’t about to partake of the forbidden fruit, it would at least be nice to have it offered.
But after three sleepless hours, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Obviously Cole had had time to think about what had happened and he’d come to the conclusion that the idea of them falling into bed was bad with a capital B, just as she’d said.
When the sun had topped the horizon, she’d given up the attempt at sleep. She’d dragged herself up and doused herself with a cold shower before pulling on her usual work uniform—blue-jean shorts, a skimpy tank top with Giddyup written in neon pink and cowboy boots. The bar was closed today, but that didn’t mean there was any less to do. Sundays were spent restocking and cleaning and prepping for Manic Monday and the all-you-can-eat rib buffet that Raylene offered during happy hour to bring in the customers.
Her sisters usually handled the bar area while Nikki spent her time in the kitchen, but since they were in Hawaii for their honeymoon, that meant three times the workload.
Unless her mother showed up.
She would. Eventually. Nikki had no doubt about that.
She’d been in shock last night and so she’d kept her distance. But eventually she would get mad and determined to give her youngest a great big piece of her mind. And a huge guilt trip.
Nikki would have to face both, but hopefully not just yet. Not after last night’s encounter and so little sleep and a lumpy béarnaise sauce. She was already having one heck of a bad day.
She sent up a silent prayer that Raylene would spend the day nursing a massive hangover courtesy of the tequila she’d consumed last night while mourning the loss of yet another daughter to one Cole Chisholm.
Speaking of which...
She tiptoed past him, past the shirt tossed on the floor and the boot lying on its side and a large black duffel bag, and tried to breathe. Fat chance when he shifted and she stalled.
She fought to ignore the ripple of his bicep as he stuffed a hand under his head and forced herself to breathe as he settled back down. Another step and she reached for her purse which sat on the coffee table next to his cowboy hat.
A few frantic heartbeats later, she headed down the steps that ran behind the bar. Digging for her keys, she started to open the door only to find it unlocked.
So much for escaping a confrontation right now.
Dread washed through and her heart stalled because there was no doubt in her mind, Raylene was inside and the shit was about to hit the fan.
7
“MA! I KNOW YOU’RE in there,” she called out as she walked inside, “and I just want to say... Wow, your beard looks really long.”
“You like?” asked the young man who met her a few feet inside the doorway. He stroked the thick, bushy length of brown hair hanging from his narrow chin. “It’s my new Duck Dynasty look. It’s not real. Just a fake one I picked up at the Rite Aid—part of the leftover costumes from Halloween—but you get the idea. This is how I’m going to grow it out.”
Just as soon as the testosterone kicked in, which wasn’t likely to be in the near future since Colby Jackson was already twenty-three, and still only five foot two and one hundred and forty pounds wet. He normally had zero facial hair except for the occasional lone whisker that sprouted on his otherwise baby-soft face. He had blue eyes, a sweet smile and a strong work ethic, which was why Raylene had hired him to wash glasses and sweep floors. He came in early and stayed late and never complained.
&n
bsp; At least not in front of Raylene.
“We should have a Duck Dynasty night instead of Women’s Wednesday,” he went on. “We could install some giant flat-screen TVs over the bar and put up some camo decorations. Everybody would show up here to watch the show and drink a Si Tai.”
“A Si Tai?”
“You know. A drink named after Silas, the Duck Dynasty uncle. I bet every man in town would like that.”
“Maybe, but they like meeting women even more and so we do Women’s Wednesdays so the ladies get in free and the men pay because they want to get in and meet some ladies.”
“I think Duck Dynasty is a better idea.”
“You would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you have no social life.” When he gave her a sharp look, she added, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Namely because Colby was one of the few people who actually knew that Nikki didn’t live up to her look. He’d saved her on more than one occasion from an overly flirty guy by calling her back into the kitchen to check the wings, or dish up some pretzels. Colby was her friend.
“Thank heavens it’s you.” She followed him into the main area where the dance floor sat flanked by three massive bars. “I thought Mom was here.”
“Haven’t seen her and I’ve been here going on two hours. Mopped all the floors and I’m about to start cleaning the bathrooms, though I don’t expect there’ll be much of a mess since I cleaned on Friday night and we were closed yesterday for the wedding.” A sadness touched his eyes, along with a gleam of awe. “I bet April looked awful pretty.”
“You should have come to see for yourself. You were invited.”
“And see that Jake Barber fawning all over her?” He puffed out his chest. “No thanks.”
“Jake is a nice guy. He’ll be good to her.”
“I could have been good to her.” He seemed deflated and suddenly the whole Duck Dynasty beard made sense. He was feeling inadequate because his crush had chosen someone else.
She knew the feeling.
Way back when, Cole Chisholm had been her crush.
Texas Outlaws: Cole Page 5