by Unknown
“Go on,” Lucy said.
“It’s got to be confidential. I promised Ace, but if I don’t talk to someone I’m going to fall to pieces right here, and Momma will be here in an hour so she and Daddy can see the whole place and Ace don’t even know it.”
“You promised him that your parents would never come on the ranch?” Lucy asked.
Jasmine’s hands fell to her lap. “Confidential, Lucy?”
“I’m bound by my own inner code just like them doctors or lawyers is bound by the vow they take to be in their jobs. I tell my girls that they can tell me anything and you can too. Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me,” Lucy said.
“I proposed to Ace,” Jasmine started.
“I don’t think that’s a hangin’ sin in today’s world.
But your momma don’t have to know, and I’m sure Ace isn’t about to tell them.”
“No, that’s not it. I told him I would marry him because there was a codicil on his grandpa’s will,” Jasmine explained.
“A what?” Lucy frowned.
“A part in small print that said Ace had to be married in two years or this son- of- a- bitch cousin, Cole Nelson, would get the ranch. Anyway, Ace didn’t read the will when his grandpa died so he didn’t know about it until the lawyer died and this fancy- pants lawyer found it and contacted Cole to see if he was still living. He is still livin’ and he said he was selling the ranch to the highest bidder and if Ace wanted it then he had to buy it back from Cole. Ace had one week to get married and I didn’t have any intentions of getting involved with anyone for a helluva lot longer than a year so I said I’d marry him.
It was supposed to be a secret, but then it got put on television,” Jasmine said.
A huge weight lifted from her shoulders.
“Oh!” Lucy clamped a hand over her mouth.
Jasmine nodded. “And he has to stay married a year or it’s not any good.”
“Oh!” The second one came out muffled from behind her hand.
“Yeah!” Jasmine nodded.
The hand came down. “And your parents want to buy the café and they want grandchildren and you’re in love with Ace?”
Jasmine nodded.
“Dear Lord.” Lucy gasped. “Now that is a first- rate pickle that bacon grease won’t fix for sure. What are we going to do?”
“Hell if I know. But Momma and Daddy will be here any minute and Ace don’t even know they are coming because he didn’t pick up his phone either.”
“Hello!” Kelly yelled from the front door of the bunkhouse. “Anyone in here?”
“Smile pretty and we’ll talk about this later,” Lucy said.
“We can fix it, can’t we?”
“Jasmine, you can fix anything. Look at what you did for me. You are Wonder Woman. Hello! Come right on in here! We’re in here,” Lucy yelled and stood up.
“Thank you,” Jasmine said.
“Don’t mention it. We are strong women. Between us we could take on King Kong.”
Jasmine smiled at Lucy’s choice of words. But right then she sure didn’t feel like King Kong on steroids; more like a mouse hiding in a corner.
Kelly marched across the floor and extended her hand. “I’m Kelly King and this is my husband, Walt. We knocked on the door at the house but no one answered, and then we saw Jasmine’s truck parked out front so we walked on back here. You must be Lucy.”
Kelly’s dark brown hair was cut in a feathered back style, and her makeup was perfect. Her eyes were brown and her smile sweet. Lucy could see where Jasmine got her height, her hair, and her pretty lips, but her green eyes came from her father.
Lucy shook her hand and said, “Yes, I’m Lucy. I work here for Jasmine as chief cook and bottle washer.
Delilah, my cat, and I have a room in the ranch house but I spend a lot of my time in here cooking for the crew.
Would y’all like a glass of tea or a cup of coffee?” Walt King stuck out his hand to Lucy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. Jasmine has talked so much about you and her other friends that we feel like we already know all of you. And thank you for the offer, but we just had something cold.”
Kel y nodded. “We had coffee and drinks with our lunch, then Pearl insisted that we have tea at her place, and on the way back over we had to stop for gas so I had a Diet Coke. I’m addicted to them, I’ll admit it.” Jasmine stood up and hugged both her mother and her father. “Welcome to the Double Deuce. Remember when I was a kid and wanted to live on a ranch like Pearl? Well, I got my wish.”
Lucy winked at her and that gave her courage to go on.
“As you’ve already figured out, this is the bunkhouse where our permanent crew lives. They each have a bedroom and bathroom behind those doors. This is the great room where everyone eats together at breakfast and supper. They take sandwiches to the field with them at lunchtime. All those wonderful smells floating
around are from Lucy’s cooking. Daddy, you’ll have to talk recipes with her. You almost beat me here. I just got in from the café.”
Lucy pointed at the door. “Ace and some of the guys are out there working on a tractor so you can go meet them now and, Mr. King, I share all my recipes. Maybe we can talk cooking later on after you have a tour of the place.”
Before Walt could answer, Ace slung the back door open and carried the empty tea jug inside. He had black grease smears on his forehead, sweat rings on his dirty T- shirt that had the sleeves cut out, his barbed wire tat right out there in plain sight, and his jeans looked like they’d been pulled through a mud hole backwards.
“Hi, darlin’, you are home early. You didn’t tell me you were bringing home company today,” he said.
Jasmine crossed the room, tiptoed, and kissed him on a clean spot on his cheek and said, “Ace, meet my parents, Kelly and Walt King.”
He set the jug on the cabinet, wiped his hand on his hip pocket, and extended it toward Walt. “Glad to meet you, sir. Just got finished fixin’ a tractor so I’m not cleaned up. Still got a few hours of work left. Want to tag along with me?”
“Be glad to, son. Used to like to go over to John Richland’s place for an afternoon and work with him,” Walt said.
Ace turned to her mother, took Kelly’s hand in his, and brought it to his lips. He brushed a kiss across her fingertips and said, “You don’t look old enough to be Jazzy’s momma. You’d pass more for her sister. Me and Walt are going to leave you women folks alone. Jazzy, darlin’give your momma the tour up at the house and show her all around. I’ll be in to clean up in a couple of hours.” He and Walt were talking tractors and cows when they shut the door behind them.
“Oh, my!” Kelly gasped. “He is a charmer, isn’t he?
Even in his work clothes, I can see where you would be attracted to him, Jasmine. And all that pretty curly hair. I’ve always wanted a granddaughter with Shirley Temple curls and blue eyes. I can already see her in a frilly little pink Easter dress with a big bow in her hair.
And Christmas, oh how pretty she’ll be.”
Lucy butted right into the conversation. “If y’all will excuse me I need to check on my roast and get some hot rolls started for supper. Jasmine, I reckon you want to show your momma the house, don’t you? I’m thinkin’
we’ll have supper at five tonight. These folks won’t want to be drivin’ too much in the dark. Unless y’all was plannin’ on spending the night? I could sleep on the sofa if you wanted to stay over.”
“Oh, my no! We didn’t come prepared to stay.
We’re just visitin’, but it would be nice to have supper at five. I’d like to stop at the Gainesville Mall on the way back to Sherman. Maybe I’ll just glance at the little girl dresses.” Kelly gave Lucy a broad wink and locked arms with her daughter. “Lucy, you cal me Kel y. When anyone says Mrs. King, I think they are talkin’ about Walt’s momma. Jasmine, let’s go see your new house. I bet I can come up with al kinds of ideas to spruce it up.” Jasmine mouthed “thank you” at Lucy and led her mother off toward
the house.
Later that night, after her parents went home and the rest of the house was quiet, Ace drew Jasmine into his arms and kissed her on the forehead. She smelled of coconut-scented shampoo and sweet- smelling soap.
“That went fairly well even if I didn’t intend to meet your folks looking like I just went swimming in a fresh hog wallow,” he said.
Jasmine threw an arm across his broad chest and sighed. “They want to buy my café, Ace. If she can’t have a wedding, then she’ll just buy my café and make me have babies. I can’t sell my café, and I can’t tell them why. And I tried to call you but it went straight to voice mail.”
“Tell her no. Simple as that. Besides, I don’t think she can make you have babies. I might be able to do that, but not your momma.” He chuckled.
Jasmine slapped him playfully. “It’s not funny.” Ace propped up on an elbow. “Yes, it is. If anyone deserves to be in a pout, it’s me. I felt like shit, them seeing me the first time all nasty and smelling like bacon. I would have liked to make a better first impression than that. So don’t get on your high horse with me, Jazzy.”
“Men, especially ranchers, can be all dirty and… why did you smell like bacon?”
“Because I couldn’t budge a nut off a bolt on the tractor and Lucy said that bacon grease would take care of it so she smeared it up good with grease and then I twisted the nut off and got it al over my hands. Then I wiped my hands on my jeans.”
“Ranchers can do things like that and it’s okay, and my dad liked you so it doesn’t matter,” Jasmine said.
Ace moved to her side of the bed and pulled her back into his arms. “And your mother?”
Jasmine frowned. “Let’s see. The house was nice, but it did need redecorating. A few of those big gold mirrors and some silk flower arrangements on pedestals would be helpful; and of course it real y had to have another bathroom or two and maybe a kitchen makeover. Old Bill and Little Joe surely did not ever come into the house, and Delilah was not given the run of the house, was she? Animals should not be allowed in the house with babies, and her granddaughter did not need to have nasty cat hair or dog dander on her sweet little body.”
“And what did you say?” Ace asked.
“That it was my home; that I loved Delilah and the dogs; and when wintertime came Old Bill and Little Joe could curl up in front of the fireplace at night if they wanted or sleep at the foot of the bed with us if they wanted. That I absolutely hate gold mirrors and I’d take the kitchen makeover under consideration later. And that when and if I had a daughter, she was going to be surrounded by animals and she was going to be at home on the ranch.”
Ace heard myhome loud and clear and smiled. “You done good, Jazzy.”
“I don’t feel like I did good. I’m tied up in knots,” she said.
“Roll over on your tummy,” Ace said.
“Why?”
“I’m going to work those knots out for you and then you are going to get a good night’s sleep. You didn’t sleep much at all last night. We were too busy playing and then all this went down today. Roll over while I go in the bathroom and get that vanilla- smellin’ lotion of yours,” he said.
When he returned she was on her stomach with her shirt off and her boxers resting under her butt cheeks.
She heard him chuckle and looked up.
“What?”
“Nice pose there. Betcha you could pose for Playboy.”
“Who says I didn’t already? Heffy, baby, does a real good massage,” she teased.
“Not as good as I do,” Ace declared.
He poured cold lotion in a long stream from neck to butt and rubbed it in before he kneaded the knots out of her neck and shoulders. He moved down by inches using more lotion along the way. Her body was silk beneath his calloused hands without lotion. With the sweet-smelling lotion, she was warm butter dripping though his fingers. Touching her aroused him, made him want to taste all the places he massaged, and more.
“I feel like a wet noodle. Thank you, Ace.” Jasmine yawned.
Ace kissed her softly. “Good night, darlin’.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“You need sleep worse than sex. Go to sleep now and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“You are wonderful,” she mumbled.
Even with the massage, she didn’t sleep wel . She had nightmares about big gold mirrors with her mother’s distorted face watching every single move she made.
Instead of the alarm clock flashing in her face to wake her the next morning, it was her cell phone. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and blindly fumbled on the nightstand.
“Please don’t be Bridget telling me she’s too sick to work,” she mumbled.
“Hello.”
“Thank God. I was afraid you’d run off the road and was layin’ off in a bar ditch half dead. You are never ever late and I was going to get in the car and come find you if you didn’t answer the phone, and where are you?
Are you broke down in that spot where there’s no phone reception? Just tell me… why are you answering your phone if there’s no reception?”
“I overslept! I’m just fine. I’m getting around right now.”
“Thank God! Want me to start the biscuits and get the sausage frying?”
“Yes, please! I’ll be there in fifteen, I promise.” She grabbed her jeans, threw the cell phone in her purse, and missed, knocking the bag off the chair beside the bed and scattering its contents everywhere. She hoped that she’d scooped everything back into her purse as she hurried outside.
Chapter 19
It was a Murphy’s Law Friday. If it could go wrong it did! A can of cherry pie filling slipped out of her hands and splattered all over the floor. The chicken fried steaks she’d already put into the skil et burned while she was cleaning that up and she had to start the orders all over. Her mother called six times before lunch to see what she thought of lace curtains for the apartment window; to tell her that she needed the menus a week ahead of time to put on the new website she was designing; that she’d seen a lovely pose for her granddaughter in a field of Texas bluebonnets when she was about three; that her father had ordered a new set of cookbooks especially for country cooking; and the other two times were to ask if she’d changed her mind yet about the café. She told her each of the six times that the café was not for sale.
If it couldn’t go wrong it did anyway! Her produce order was short and she’d adjust her menu or she’d never have enough potatoes to last until the next week.
Every time she had a spare second, Bridget wanted to worry and pout about Frankie not calling her. Ace didn’t come by all day long and she missed him.
By closing time, Jasmine was ready to give the apartment, the café, and Bridget to her mother, run away to the beach, and pick up seashells for a living. She locked up behind Bridget, plopped down in the nearest chair, folded her arms on the table, and laid her head on them.
Used to be that she thought her life was boring; how could it have gotten so complicated in such a short time?
She sat there five minutes before she went to the kitchen and whipped up desserts for the next day. She expected something to go wrong the whole day and was surprised when it didn’t. Thinking that she must have finally broken the bad luck omen, she removed her apron, picked up her purse, and started home. She took two steps on the porch, stumbled, and caught herself on the railing but her purse went flying stringing the contents from one end of the porch to the other.
“Dammit!” she swore. “Twice in one day is not fair!” She bent over and crammed things back inside: lipstick, a flash drive with the café business backed up on it, wallet, two- year date planner so she wouldn’t forget birthdays, keys, little red book…
“Whoa! What is this?” She picked up a worn leather red book. She’d never seen the thing before. It was barely bigger than the palm of her hand and leather bound. She turned it over to see gold initials on the outside right corner: A. R.
She sat down
on the porch steps. “Ace Riley.” She wiped sweat from her forehead with the bottom of her T- shirt and turned the book over a dozen times.
She knew exactly what she was holding, but opening it would be unforgivable. It was his little black book of women’s names, addresses, and phone numbers.
Just how detailed was it, anyway? And how many names were in it? Did a woman get her name in the playboy’s book of sin the first time they went out, or did she have to put out first?
Jealousy abounded but she couldn’t stop her thoughts.
Where did he get it? Surely he didn’t buy this thing.
Some woman gave it to him. Is her name in the book?
Shit! I sound like a wife. Maybe it was empty. Some two- bit hussy gave it to him, but he never wrote a single name in it. If she just fanned through the pages she could see if it was empty or if there were really names in it.
Holding it in her left hand and using her right thumb, she fanned.
Enough little black stars flew past her eyes to light up a galaxy or two.
Stars! He had graded each woman. How did it work?
One star for sex; one for humor; one for looks? If she only looked at the first page, she’d at least know that much. She didn’t have to look at their names or how many stars they got.
She shut her eyes tightly and opened the cover.
Lightning didn’t shoot from the sky and zap her.
Thunder didn’t roll in warning. Snow didn’t start to fall right there in Ringgold, Texas, in the middle of June.
She looked down at the first page.
FromMallorywhogivesAcethefive- star maximumfor sex. All the rest is window dressing.
She snapped the cover shut.
“What would I rate him?” she whispered.
Iffivestarsisthemaximum, you’d give him a goodsolid ten.
She crammed the book down into her purse, picked up two pennies, a dime, and a quarter and looked around to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying on the porch. Tires crunched the gravel in the parking lot so she looked up, hoping that it wasn’t Ace. She didn’t want to face him until she’d decided how to deal with the book.