by Dixie Cash
“Yes, I’ll get it.”
“I’ll get it,” Buddy volunteered.
“Hey, that’s nice of you.” Paige handed him the keys. “It’s on the front seat. An overnight kit and a small valise.” She turned to Debbie Sue. “I feel just awful coming to your home without bringing a gift, but I—”
“Good Lord. You don’t have to worry with stuff like that around us. We were expecting company anyway, so it’s not like—”
“Oh, I hope I’m not imposing—”
“Now, hush. We’re glad you came. A new guy about our age moved here last week, and we invited him over, too.”
Hating being matched up, Paige stopped in her tracks.
Debbie Sue looked up at her quizzically. “Hey, this isn’t a fix-up. It’s just a coincidence.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “But he is single. In Salt Lick, that’s more rare than raindrops. He’s also good-looking and he’s a doctor.”
“A single doctor?” Paige said, perking up. “Tell me more.”
Debbie Sue opened the front door and urged her inside. “Well, he went to—”
“Did I get the right ones?” Before she could finish her sentence Buddy came up behind them and lifted a suitcase with each hand for Paige’s inspection.
“Yes, and thanks. I think I’ll freshen up a little. Where do you want me?”
“Right this way, ma’am.” Buddy walked up a hallway, and Paige followed.
In the small bedroom, Paige dug clean jeans and a bright blue cashmere sweater from her bag, then sat down on the side of the bed and tugged off her fashion boots. She paused, looking at the boots. They had done some damage today. She was glad to know there was a doctor in town. The doctor.
She changed clothes, put on leather mules, then took her makeup to the small bathroom off the hall. There she swept her high cheekbones with a frosty pink blush. Keeping eye makeup to a minimum, a little lip gloss completed her look. Her hair had been cut to support a tossed look, so she bent over and tossed it some more. Last, she sprayed on perfume. With one last look she reached for the doorknob.
ten
Paige entered the living room just in time to see Buddy saying hello to—
Oh, my God! This couldn’t be real!
The man standing just inside the small entry glanced her way and froze mid-hello. “Uh…I didn’t know you had company,” he said. “We can do this another time.” He started backing out the doorway.
Buddy grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. Our table seats four, and we’ve got plenty to eat. Come on in. My wife’s expecting you.”
The new arrival, halted in his tracks by Buddy’s grip, removed his hat and nodded in Paige’s direction. His tall frame seemed to fill the space in the room not already filled by Buddy’s size.
Paige summoned a wan smile.
“Do you two know each other?” Buddy asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Uh, n-no,” she stammered. “Not really. When I had trouble on the road last week, a flat, he stopped and helped me.”
Paige didn’t mention backing into Spur’s fender in the Frost National Bank parking lot in Fort Worth and crushing his instep with her boot heel earlier in the afternoon.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the new guest. Surely this couldn’t be the doctor. A maroon sweatshirt hugged his torso. The sleeves, pushed up to his elbows, exposed tanned, sinewy forearms. His Wranglers looked as if they had been sewn onto his long, muscular legs and he was wearing white…
…White tennis shoes? Oh, dear. He probably couldn’t get his injured foot into a boot…
Debbie Sue walked in, smiling and wiping her hands on her apron. “Spur, good to see you again. Did Buddy introduce you to Paige?” She took Spur’s hat and whisked it to a table in the living room.
“They already know each other,” Buddy said, still obviously puzzled. “Flat tire, right, Paige?”
Spur’s gaze bored into her, and a smirk tilted one side of his mouth. He spoke before she could find a word. “Paige was just outside Salt Lick, weren’t you? I believe you were on your way to the Carruthers ranch?”
Paige avoided his eyes by looking past him. “You have a good memory.”
“Oh, you’d be amazed at what I retain.” His head tilted, recapturing her attention. “First impressions are usually the ones that form the most long-lasting opinions.”
She glanced to the side. “Sometimes first impressions are deceiving. I hope you don’t judge someone on that alone.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw the smirk turn into a grin. “Nope,” he said. “In truth, second and even third meetings are probably the more telling.”
Buddy and Debbie Sue stood between them, shifting looks like spectators at a Ping-Pong tournament. Debbie Sue interrupted the verbal volley. “Spur, why don’t you have that right shoe laced up? Have you hurt yourself?”
Spur looked down at his foot. “A filly stepped on my instep this afternoon. It’s gonna be all right. Just a little sore.” He raised his eyes to Paige and winked. “I’m the new vet in town.” He limped a few steps to her and extended his hand. “Spur. Spur Atwater. Pleased to meet you. Come by the clinic on another day and I’ll give you a tour.”
Paige feared touching his hand again. She could see herself electrified, her arms and legs askew like a cartoon character. Summoning composure, she accepted his hand, marveling at the size and warmth of it, and gave him her runway smile.
“God, I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve been stepped on by a horse,” Debbie Sue said. “You’re lucky it’s not broken. C’mon, y’all, let’s eat.” She led them into the compact dining area.
The positive interaction with Spur had filled Paige with a sense of relief so powerful she wanted to throw herself at him and hug him.
During the meal, she couldn’t keep from stealing glances at him, only to discover he was stealing, too. Debbie Sue and Buddy entertained with stories from their childhoods. They had literally grown up together. Paige was impressed. She had literally grown up alone.
After Debbie Sue explained her and Edwina’s misadventures solving the murder of Pearl Ann Carruthers, Paige was prompted to relate how she came to be an employee of the Flying C. She didn’t tell them about being cut off financially by her wealthy father. Instead she spoke of a lifelong love of horses and a desire to follow her mother’s footsteps. She was so comfortable with these three people she didn’t even mind telling the story of her failure at McDonald’s. Spur and Buddy guffawed when she stood up and did her impersonation of the angry customer who had gotten her fired.
The phone warbled from the kitchen, and still laughing, Buddy excused himself. They couldn’t keep from overhearing his conversation.
“I know, Jerry, but I’m not the sheriff now. You’ll have to call Billy Don…. I know, Jerry…. I understand…. I don’t think the Rangers will take it up.”
“He still gets calls,” Debbie Sue said in explanation. “The local folks called him with their problems for too many years. They can’t get used to Billy Don.”
“I don’t wonder,” Spur said and chuckled. “I saw the sheriff the first day I got to town. He’d hog-tied himself in front of his office.”
“Oh, hell,” Debbie replied with a frown, “I’ll bet he was practicing his roping on the fire hydrant again. When Buddy was sheriff and Billy Don was the deputy, Buddy threatened to strangle him more than once for doing that. Listen, y’all ’scuse me. I’ve still got rolls warming in the oven.”
Paige found herself alone with Spur, totally unprepared to entertain with a sparkling remark.
Fortunately, he wasn’t speechless. “I didn’t know you were going to be here this evening, but I’m glad you are.”
“Really?” Paige heard the skepticism in her own voice.
“I acted like a jerk earlier and well…well, I’m glad for the chance to say I’m sorry. I know it was an accident when you stepped on me.”
Paige opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Debbie Sue returned carry
ing a basket of fresh rolls. “Like I was saying,” she said as she set the basket on the table, “folks just can’t get used to Billy Don as the new sheriff. I don’t know what will happen if there’s a serious crime around here.”
“Believe me, Jerry, I understand how you feel,” Buddy said in the kitchen, and all eyes turned toward his voice. “It’s just not something the DPS will investigate at this point. Give Billy Don a chance to resolve it, and if you’re still not satisfied, maybe we can do something else…. That’s okay, Jerry. You know my number. You know you can call me anytime.” Buddy returned to the table and resumed eating.
“Who was that?” Debbie Sue asked him.
“Jerry Gilmore. His daughter’s horse has disappeared.” Buddy said to Spur, “That’s the second call I’ve gotten in recent weeks about a missing horse.”
Debbie Sue’s brow knit into a frown. “Jerry Gilmore’s daughter’s horse is old.”
Buddy shrugged and shoved a bite of pork into his mouth.
Paige caught Spur directing another stolen glance in her direction. Since she had been interrupted before she had the chance to say she accepted his apology, she smiled, hoping to convey the message.
“Domestic Equalizers has even gotten a couple of calls about horses gone missing,” Debbie Sue said. “That’s why we’ve started putting Rocket Man in the barn closest to the house.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Paige said. “Do you suppose something bad’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Ed and I are thinking about looking into—”
Buddy stopped her with an arch look. “Debbie Sue, you know—”
“Now, don’t get upset. I said we’re only thinking about it.”
“I’ll pay close attention when I get calls from horse owners,” Spur put in. “I’ll let Billy Don know if I hear anything.”
“Well, we won’t figure it out at this table tonight,” Buddy said with a smile. “So, Spur, I’ve never had an all-American at my supper table. I’ve watched a few of your games. Why didn’t you go pro? You must have had offers.”
Paige looked at Spur with wide-eyed wonder. She knew champion rodeo-ers, sure, but they didn’t hold the same status in social circles as an all-American football player. “You were an all-American?”
Even behind his tan, Spur’s face flushed, and he seemed tongue-tied.
“Starting quarterback at A&M for four years,” Buddy said. “Broke half a dozen records, right?”
“Uh, just four. But it wasn’t all me. I had good linemen looking out for me. Top-notch receivers, too. And some of the best running backs in college football. They made me look good.”
If it was possible, humility made him even more irresistible. “So why didn’t you go pro?” Paige asked, picking up on Buddy’s question. “Sounds like you could have. The money they pay professional ball players is incredible.”
“I never really loved the game. I couldn’t see myself continuing to play for years. But football gave me what I wanted—an education, which I’m hoping to turn into a comfortable, stable living doing something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Paige leaned forward, intoxicated by the very notion of someone doing something he had always wanted to do. “You don’t think you’d achieve that, making millions in professional football? Those guys are national heroes.”
“Or they’re late-night comic relief. Making millions might make people treat you like a hero, but when your career falters or ends, you’re worse than a nobody. You’re a has-been.” Spur reached for another roll and buttered it. “Besides, I’m not comfortable in the limelight. I don’t like people prying into my life.”
“Wow,” Debbie Sue said, “that’s an unusual attitude toward fame and fortune. Tell us, Spur, what are you hiding?”
Spur lowered his eyes to his food. “Nothing. My mom thought a doctor was the most respected profession a man could have. I promised her that’s what I’d do. Only I chose animals instead of people. Animals being sick or hurt are needier than humans.”
Paige was touched that someone, a guy, loved animals as much as she did.
“That’s admirable of you, Spur,” Debbie Sue said. “I’ll bet your mom’s real proud of you.”
“She would be, but she died three years ago.”
Paige felt her eyes burn. She was such a sucker for a sad tale. “’Scuse me.”
She scooted from the table, scraping her chair against the hardwood floor, and darted to the bathroom. Once inside, she stepped to the mirror and fanned her hands in front of her eyes, a trick she learned long ago to prevent tears.
What was wrong with her? Everything about Spur Atwater put her senses into the stratosphere. All her senses—sight, touch, hearing, taste, smell—overreacted to him. Maybe she was coming down with something. Maybe she was allergic to him.
“That’s impossible,” she argued with her reflection.
Tonight was the first time their meeting hadn’t been painfully confrontational. For all she knew, he didn’t like any women. Or he could be engaged. Or gay!
Forget that, no way this guy is gay. Nope. Not possible.
Well, whatever was going on, it was making her crazy.
Then she realized she had been gone from the table overly long. Readjusting her bra and tossing her hair, she left the bathroom and returned to the dining room, showing more swagger than she felt.
She found Debbie Sue clearing the table, with Buddy and Spur nowhere to be seen. Panic seized her. Had Spur left? Did she miss telling him good-bye? Didn’t he want to tell her good-bye?
“Goodness, was I gone that long?” She tried to sound casual. “Here, let me help you with these dishes.” She picked up a couple of plates and followed Debbie Sue into the kitchen.
“Just stack them here on the counter. I’ll throw ’em in the dishwasher later. Or maybe I’ll just throw ’em out the window.” Debbie Sue added on a laugh. “Like that actress on those TV reruns. You know, on Green Acres?”
Paige laughed with her, not wanting to say she had no clue to what TV show her hostess referred. She loved Debbie Sue’s blunt speech and sense of humor.
Debbie Sue pulled four dessert plates from the cupboard. “We’ll have cake and coffee in the living room by the fire. Buddy and Spur went to get more logs. The fire almost went out while we were eating.”
Just then Paige heard the voices of the men coming back into the house. Debbie Sue sliced the chocolate cake and served up huge chunks. “Spur,” she called out, “how do you take your coffee?”
Mr. All-American appeared in the doorway, leveling a glance at the cake. “Uhm, that depends. Chocolate cake, huh?”
“Yep. With fudge frosting. Made it myself. With only a little help from Betty Crocker.”
He grinned. “If it’s as good as those rolls you made for supper, I might have two pieces.”
Debbie Sue smiled. “Why, thank you, Spur.”
“Since we’re having chocolate cake, I’ll take my coffee black.”
Debbie Sue handed him a plate. “Now I’m curious. How would you take it if we didn’t have cake?”
“Two teaspoons of sugar. But only two. Since I don’t get the exercise I used to, I try to be disciplined when it comes to my diet, though Hogg’s may prove to be my downfall.”
“Hell,” Debbie Sue muttered, planting a fist on her hip and watching Spur carry his cake to the living room. “I like sugar on top of my cake. When it comes to food, I don’t know the meaning of discipline.”
Paige nodded, thinking about the three heaping teaspoons of sugar she had just added to her mug. “I know what you mean.”
Debbie Sue took the mugs of coffee to the living room, with Paige following with plates of cake.
Buddy and Debbie Sue sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, leaving only a love seat for their guests. Paige sat down gingerly, all too aware of her proximity to Spur. She could feel heat from his thigh as it pressed against hers. She half expected to see a blob of melted chocolate goo on the plate where her slice of cake had been.
“Did you rodeo when you were a kid?” Debbie Sue asked Spur. “I ask because of your name. Sounds like a show name.”
“Spur’s my given name. I did some cowboying growing up, but I never rodeoed.” He took a sip of his coffee and continued. “My dad gave all us kids the name of the town where we lived when we were born. You know how it is being a roughneck in the oil fields. We moved a lot. Since he was an orphan and never knew even his birthplace, much less his parents, he figured, with our names, at least we’d always know that much. My younger sisters are Electra, Loraine, and Idalou. My two older ones are Jayton and Lamesa.”
Debbie Sue’s fork clattered against her plate. “You’ve got five sisters?”
Spur grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I used to help my mom take care of the younger ones ’til I left home for college. They’re all married now except one.” He looked in Paige’s direction. “Hey, you remind me of one of them now. You’ve got some cake icing on your cheek.”
“Oh. Where?” Paige twisted her tongue around her mouth, trying to touch her cheek. “Did I get it?”
“Here. Let me.” He brushed her cheek with his finger. “There, it’s gone.”
Her own fingers flew to the spot he had touched and their gazes locked. After a few seconds, he looked down at the chocolate on his fingertip as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Finally, he stuck the tip of his finger in his mouth and sucked off the chocolate. The gesture struck her as so intimate, so erotic, she felt her face flush.
“Um, well…uh, you were lucky with your name,” Buddy said, breaking the moment. He seemed to be stammering. He had seen what just passed between her and Spur.
“Spur’s not a bad name,” Buddy said. “You could’ve been living in Cut and Shoot when you were born.”
“Or Buffalo Gap,” Debbie Sue added with a laugh.
Spur laughed, too, the awkward moment seeming to be gone. “I’ve always thought it was a good thing Dripping Springs wasn’t an oil town. Dripping Springs Atwater would have been tough on announcers and sports writers.”
Everyone laughed together. Paige was having such a good time she didn’t want it to end. Then the talk turned to her again. “Are you going to be living at the Flying C or will you be staying somewhere in town?” Spur asked her.