by Tina Leonard
“What bullcorn,” Mason said. “What a pile of hockey pucks.”
“It’s all over but the crying,” Bandera said.
“Yeah, Tex crying,” Navarro agreed. “We’re going to have to listen to the wedding bell blues until the blood goes on the marriage certificate.”
“All right. Enough,” Tex said crossly. “I’m afraid you have all overstated the importance of a slightly tweaked ankle.”
“Looks purple to me,” Mason observed, “for a slight tweak. Think I’ll ring the doc and ask him what to do for a broken ankle.”
“Broken!” Tex leaned up to stare at his appendage. “It’s not broken.”
“You jumped out a woman’s second-story window,” Bandera said in disbelief, shaking his head. “The shame of it!”
Navarro blinked. “I’ve never heard of a Jefferson male breaking his own ankle to escape a woman.”
Tex ground his teeth. “If any of you knew half as much as you think you do—”
“All we know is what we see,” Navarro said. “And it’s humiliating!”
“Actions speak louder than words,” Bandera agreed. “Dude, your roses never move past the bud stage. You are way too out of touch with yourself and the universe to be able to release the—”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Tex waved a hand majestically in the air. “You obviously have not heard the good news.”
His brothers stood by silently.
“We’re going to participate in a bachelor raffle for Miss Honeycutt. Delilah. At the Mayfest.”
Navarro and Bandera stared at him, then started to howl with laughter. “No, we’re not,” they said, leaving the room snickering.
Mason shook his head and left, as well.
“Chickens,” Tex said, staring at his swelling ankle. Mason returned to put a bag of ice on it and then left the house.
Tex rolled his eyes. “Fear of intimacy,” he grumbled. “Budus Interruptus. Curse of the Broken Body Parts. What a bunch of superstitious weirdos!”
They were really starting to bother him.
And Cissy bothered him even more. “They’re wrong,” he told his ankle. “And she’s wrong. I know exactly what I’m doing. Eventually, they’ll all have to admit that I’m not the one with hang-ups.”
He would unlock the Sacred Mysteries of the Rosebuds—and prove he wasn’t scared of intimacy all in one fell swoop.
The raffle would be his salvation. In two weeks, he’d spend time on a date with a woman. Perfect timing for roses to bloom in glorious, take-that color.
TWO WEEKS LATER, Tex’s “tweaked” ankle was healed, and he was on a makeshift stage at the rodeo arena. There were six men to follow him, but he didn’t know them, and at this moment, he didn’t care to introduce himself. He felt silly. Mimi had gussied him up; his twin, Laredo, had sent him well wishes from North Carolina; Frisco Joe had sent him roses—butthead!—and Ranger had called long distance to ask him if he could stand the stress of being owned by a woman. His still-unmarried brothers had teased him unmercifully about becoming a stud and asked him if he was going to start dancing in clubs and letting women stuff money in his G-string.
But he’d endured it all in pursuit of his goal.
Cissy Kisserton seated herself in the stands, making his every hair stand at attention, it seemed. What was it about that woman that electrified him?
She waved at him, and he jerked his head at her in a “hello” motion. Then she lifted a bidding paddle—prettily painted fans just for this occasion—and waved it merrily at him.
He groaned. Surely she didn’t intend to carry out her threat of being a mole bidder. This was not going according to plan. He was supposed to feel liberated and free of his brothers’ teasing. And he was proving to Malfunction Junction and everyone else that he wasn’t an intimacy-phobe.
And there sat Cissy, looking like cool ice cream in a diamond-glazed dish.
What if she won him?
He would look sillier than he did right now. Everybody knew that Cissy was the cause of his ankle sprain, which was all it had turned out to be. His brothers would guffaw and ask what he was going to break while she collected her winnings—him.
Before the auctioneer could get rolling, Tex very pointedly shook his head at Cissy.
She nodded in return, her head bobbing with determination and a big grin on her face.
He shook his head more fiercely. And gave her the no-no-no finger.
In response, she waved her fan madly.
“Well, would you look at that anxious lady in the stands?” the auctioneer called over the microphone. “She’s just determined to start the bidding! What say we open at fifty dollars for this handsome cowboy? Look him over, girls. You’ll not see such chaps as these too often!”
Since he wasn’t wearing chaps, Tex figured the auctioneer was referring to some portion of his anatomy. Taking a deep breath, he watched as the fans one by one moved to the quick-fire droning of the auctioneer’s voice.
Up, up, up went his price.
Cissy’s fan flicked with confidence.
Tex’s breath hung in his chest. Surely she wasn’t really trying to win him! She had no money; she’d said so herself.
The bid reached four hundred dollars, and his brothers were slack-jawed in the stands. Tex’s face burned with humiliation.
“Give us a pose, cowboy!” a female called from the stands.
A pose? “Oh, come on,” Tex muttered, failing to see why he should. But the audience applauded, and he decided to give them what they wanted.
He popped his arm muscles, which thanks to the short-sleeve-T-shirt Mimi had suggested, worked nicely to show off his biceps.
The ladies applauded. See? he told Cissy mentally. They notice me. Women like me, even if you don’t.
He bent slightly at the knee and leaned forward, curling his arm so that he displayed his shoulder and forearm muscles.
The women clapped harder. “More!” someone yelled.
Emboldened, he turned around, showed the audience his backside, held his arms out to the side, and tightly flexed every muscle in his body.
The response was thunderous. With a sheepish grin, he turned back around, done with his antics.
Cissy’s fan gestured wildly.
And then it seemed the arena got quiet. Buzzing hummed in Tex’s ears as the auctioneer pointed to a few more fan-holding women. Tex thought maybe the lovely, dress-wearing Cissy had put her fan into her lap.
He had to admit, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him if she won him. The woman was right sexy for a good girl. If good girls were his thing, which they weren’t.
He liked his women saucy. Minx-y. A little on the bad-girl side.
Sort of the Cissy he thought he knew from their barn encounter, before he’d found out she was newly widowed and had a mess of kids and went to church and took care of her elderly grandma.
A man couldn’t poach on a gal like that, even if she did work for Marvella.
“Sold!” the auctioneer cried. “For five hundred dollars to that lady right over there!”
Chapter Four
Cissy wasn’t prepared for Marvella to purchase Tex. Her heart sank. Poor Tex! His face crumbled.
She felt responsible. Enthusiastically doing her mole-bidding thing and driving up his price, she had been determined to show that she didn’t care that he’d soon have a night with another woman.
It shouldn’t have mattered to her, but now Marvella had her fingers in the pie. Tex wouldn’t enjoy being Marvella’s purchase, not at all. When she walked over to claim Tex, Cissy’s skin crawled. “Wait a minute!” Cissy called out. “Marvella, can I talk to you?”
Hopping out of the stands, she went over to her boss.
“What, Cissy?” Marvella asked.
“I don’t think you want to buy him,” Cissy said. Tex’s eyes were on her, watching her like a hawk. “He’s damaged goods,” she explained.
“Damaged goods?” Marvella turned to stare at t
he cowboy. “He’s already won two rodeos for me. And he just showed us everything except his—”
“Yes, I realize that,” Cissy said hurriedly. “And it all looked fine, on the surface. But I thought you already had a cowboy for the rodeo.”
“My cowboy just came down with a bad case of running fever. He’s running to Nevada, away from his ex-wife and child-support payments. This one will do better,” she said with a greedy smile at Tex. “I hadn’t expected him to fall into my hands.”
“I’d pick the one over there,” Cissy said softly. “Do you recognize him? He’s the son of a retired Dallas Cowboy. And he’s all the rage on the circuit. I was reading his biography in the pamphlet. He’s not a has-been like this one,” she said with an apologetic glance at Tex.
“I heard that!” he exclaimed. “I am not a has-been!”
She got closer to Marvella, who was looking the younger rodeo rider over with a keen eye. “Tex hurt his ankle a couple of weeks ago,” Cissy said. “And his back. He just doesn’t want anyone to know he’s flimsy right now. Real worn down.”
Marvella’s head turned toward the auctioneer. “Now that I’ve inspected the goods up close, I rescind my bid.”
And she swept away.
Tex glared at Cissy.
“Hey, I’m trying to save you,” she said.
“Due to an unforeseen turn of events,” the auctioneer said, “our bidder changed her mind. Does the previous bidder still want this fine cowboy gentleman? If you want to pay the former price, he’s yours.”
A cheer went up from the stands, and ten women ran over to Tex, throwing themselves at him for hugs. Her rivals from the new salon in Union Junction. They were covering his face with lipstick kisses and he seemed much happier, Cissy noticed. The opportunistic louse! Well, they could have the intimacy-stunted cowboy. And his moral imperative. Plus his nicely fitting jeans and tight muscles. He wasn’t that much of a prize.
“Well, I guess you’re sold again, then, son,” the auctioneer said. “Ten for the price of one. What a lucky guy!”
The girls squealed, thrilled. Cissy heard Tex laugh. He didn’t sound so reluctant now, the ape.
Cissy walked away, telling herself she’d done the right thing.
TEX SAW CISSY LEAVING and tipped his hat to the women swarming him. “Ladies, I look forward to our night together,” he said, eliciting more squeals. I’ll make tonight the night of your dreams.”
They ate that up.
He grinned. “I’ll pick y’all up at Miss Delilah’s at three o’clock, and then we’ll walk to the cafeteria. I’m bringing roses for each of you.”
They crowded around him, smiling. His chest expanded with pride. He could make ten girls happy at once!
But right now, he needed to take care of one. “See you then,” he said, heading after Cissy. He caught her in the breezeway. “Hey. What’s the hurry?”
“None, exactly.” She kept walking.
He caught her hand. “So where are you going? I’d like to talk to you if you have time.”
She refused to slow down. “I really don’t. Sorry. I need to be minding the shop while Marvella and the other girls are gone.”
“The shop’s closed until tonight,” he pointed out. “Everybody’s at Mayfest. In fact, I was hoping to buy you some cotton candy.”
“Don’t like it. It’s too clingy. Thanks.”
Man, he couldn’t slow her down a bit. “Cissy. Please stop.”
She did, looking up at him. They stood on the sidewalk with the bright May sun washing the street in spring light, and he thought about how sweet she was. She had such a rep for being a tough cookie, but that was just her top layer. Once you got past her crunchiness, she was soft and sweet. “Thanks for rescuing me back there.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Of course, you didn’t have to make it sound like I was some over-the-hill, busted-up cowboy leftover.”
“Yes, I did. Marvella’s determined to beat her sister at all costs. She needed a better cowboy.”
“Hey!” He tugged lightly on her long, silvery hair. “Ain’t no better cowboy than this, lady.”
She cocked her head. “Maybe I disagree. However, I knew you felt that this was all my fault, and so I decided to snatch you back from Marvella’s jaws.”
“Had me going there for a minute. Thought you were going to buy me for yourself,” he said with a touch of swagger.
“No.” She said it calmly and with assurance. “I’ve already had you in my bedroom. Sparks didn’t fly.”
He stared at her. “They most certainly did, in the barn!”
“Maybe for you.” She shrugged. “It was fun upping your price. Too bad those girls are going to be disappointed.”
“What?” Now she was getting on his nerves again, just when he’d decided she was sweet and creamy!
“Well, they’re expecting a fun date. And a little more.”
“I’m taking them to the cafeteria. And giving them each a rose. Come on. That’s not too bad for a first date, is it?”
“Did it ever occur to you that they’re going to want something extra?”
“Hey, the girls will love going out for a nice meal. I mean, they seemed happy. And of course, I’ll spring for dessert.”
“Yes, but strawberry pie isn’t the something extra they’re going to want.”
He ignored that, since he had a suspicion she might be right. In fact, he was going to have to figure out a way around kissing all those girls. “Hey, Cissy, I need to talk to you.”
“We’re talking, Tex.”
Glancing around, he said, “In private.”
“Not my room. You exit like a bad stuntman.”
“You noticed?” He perked up instantly.
“Yeah. I could have heard the crash a mile away.”
“Oh.” He deflated again.
“And besides, I don’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas about you and me.”
“Meaning what?”
“That you…that we—”
“That I might be a customer?”
She stared at him. “A customer? I don’t do hair, Tex. I’m not a stylist.”
“That’s not what I meant, exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
He was getting annoyed because he didn’t want to be indelicate with her. “Come on, Cissy. You know very well what the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon has a reputation for. Taking real good care of their men.”
“I hope so. It is a service industry.”
“And a little more on the service side than your average Joe’s Barber Shop.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Are you insinuating that I’m a good-time girl?”
That puzzled him. “Well, aren’t you? Sort of? To make ends meet?”
She slapped him. “Ow! Cissy, what the hell!”
“Just slapping a little sense into you, cowboy.”
“Hang on a minute.” He grabbed her by her wrists and pulled her to him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a straight answer. Marvella’s salon has a rep for being a whorehouse. True or false?”
She struggled against him. “I’m not friends with the other girls. I barely talk to them. They think I’m mean, and they hate me because Marvella wants me there so much. They assume I’m getting special treatment. I’m not. Marvella likes my look. She thinks I give her salon the appearance she wants it to have. I’m a hostess, you dork.”
He released her. “Dork?”
“All right. I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t have implied that I was…wait a minute. Never mind. You are a dork. And a typical guy.”
“Obviously, I was wrong about everything. I apologize.”
“I don’t know. I don’t ask the other girls what they do with their customers. My job is to look attractive, chat sweetly and take the customers to a lady who cuts their hair, manicures them, shaves them, pedicures them, waxes them—”
“Thank you. That will do just fine.”
They stared at each other.
>
“I think you know it doesn’t matter to me. You’re still someone I want to hang around with. I do apologize,” Tex said. “It was none of my business.”
“I bet you are sorry. Sorry that you got won by ten nice girls. If we’d thought about pooling together at Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, you could have been bought by a trashy bunch. And that would have been your dream come true.”
“Actually, I don’t know what my dream is anymore.” He took a deep breath. “Let me buy you lunch.”
“No, thanks.”
Damn, but she was prickly. “Here’s my best and final offer, because I can tell you’re really hungry.”
“I’m—”
He held up a hand to interrupt her denial. “Let me buy us some fried chicken. Then I’ll drive us out to Barmaid’s Creek. It’s too cold to swim, but we can sit and look at the water. And I can talk to you. I promise, no hanky-panky.”
She sighed. “That’s not exactly an offer a girl can’t refuse. So…no.”
Defeated, he knew he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be with him. She’d rescued him from Marvella, and he’d repaid her by insulting her. “So. I guess we’ll just talk right here. Where anybody can hear us.”
“Guess so.”
He nodded. “All right. I was discussing your contract with Brian, Mimi’s lawyer husband because Ranger asked me to, and Brian was wondering if you had a copy of it.”
She shook her head.
“Dead-end there, for the moment. Question two, about your brother and sisters, I think I know someone who would go see what can be found out about them. Someone experienced with tough conditions. Someone who knows a lot about—”
A gasp escaped her. Carefully, he watched her, wondering what her next move would be. Another slap? Ire?
He was totally unprepared when Cissy threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight. It was good, it was real good. He liked it, but he had a feeling it was about to get taken away from him. “Uh, Cissy, I meant Hawk.”
She gazed up at him. “Hawk?”
“Yeah. He’s experienced in tracking.”
Slowly, she detached herself from him. “Oh.” And then she looked delightfully embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I should have listened before I leaped.”