by Dixie Cash
Driving through town on her way home, she couldn’t keep from looking for Spur’s battered pickup and hoping for a glimpse of him. Since the dinner at the Overstreets’, she had wished a hundred times that he would show up at her door or at the very least, call Debbie Sue and ask for her phone number.
As she passed the Styling Station, seeing Debbie Sue’s pickup and Edwina’s vintage Mustang surprised her. On impulse she braked and made a sharp turn across the highway into the parking lot, eager to talk to someone about her day. Besides, they might have gossip to share about the hot Dr. Atwater.
Through the window she could see the two women lounging in the hydraulic chairs. Ohmygosh, they had what appeared to be margaritas in their hands. Hallelujah!
Paige dismounted and charged in, the sleigh bells hanging on the front doorknob announcing her arrival.
“We’re closed.” Edwina’s eyes didn’t open. “Unless you’ve come to rub my feet, go away.”
“You rub mine and I’ll rub yours,” Paige said, laughing.
“My God,” Edwina drawled, sitting upright. “Those are the very words Vic said to me last night.” A big grin turned up the corners of the hairdresser’s brilliant red lips as her gaze settled on Paige. “Well, honey, just look at you. You look like something the dog drug in ’cause the cat wouldn’t.”
Paige laughed and glimpsed her image in front of the mirrors. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen herself looking so disheveled. Even diving in Cancun, she managed to keep up her appearance. “Good Lord. I do, don’t I? I need a hot bath and clean clothes.”
“What you need is a margarita,” Debbie Sue said. “There’s a pitcher already made in the fridge in the storeroom and a glass on the shelf. There’s even a bowl of salt. Help yourself. And while you’re at it, bring back the pitcher and top mine off.”
In the tiny back room, Paige salted the rim of a glass, poured herself a drink, then returned to the salon area. “Why are y’all open? I thought you’d be closed on Monday.” She refilled Debbie Sue’s and Edwina’s glasses.
“We usually are,” Debbie Sue said, “but there’s a dance at the Peaceful Oasis tonight. So many of those old ladies needed to get all dolled up, we decided to open. Besides, Ed and I are both batching. Vic’s on the road, and Buddy’s gone to a school in Odessa.”
Paige frowned and sat down in one of the teal seats affixed to a dryer. “What’s Peaceful Oasis, a private club?”
“Oh, it’s private all right,” Edwina said. “Membership requires you to be at least eighty. Honestly, those crazy old women have given me new hope on aging. I’ve never been around a hornier bunch. They should rename that place—‘Not Quite Sex, Not Quite the City.’” The lanky brunette popped a red lollipop into her mouth.
Paige giggled. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope, she’s not kidding,” Debbie Sue said. “The bad thing is, there’s about five women for every man.”
“And that one poor geezer,” Edwina added, “is doing all he can, thanks to Viagra. Yep, aging’s a bitch. I intend to wear mine completely out before I get that old. Then I won’t even want sex or miss it.” Edwina lifted her glass and drained it.
“That’ll be the day,” Debbie Sue put in.
“What can I say, girlfriend. When you’re the Bill Gates of sexuality, you gotta flaunt it.”
The two women laughed, and Paige joined in, wondering just how many margaritas the two friends had already consumed. She and Sunny rarely discussed sex unless Paige asked her specific questions. Paige found herself enjoying the ease these older women seemed to have with the topic.
“So, tell us how your first day went,” Debbie Sue said. “Lester didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?”
Edwina pointed at her with her lollipop. “Don’t you take any crap off Lester. I’ve known him since he was a little kid with a dirty face and diaper to match. He always was one to smile and tip his hat while he was reaching into your purse for your wallet. He’s that much like his deceased sister.”
“Ed, you shouldn’t speak ill of the departed,” Debbie Sue scolded. “She was a good customer.”
“He wasn’t so bad,” Paige replied, unsure how to respond to such venomous comments, even about Lester.
“Just don’t let him win you over with his charm,” Edwina said. “He’s fathered at least two kids that I know of around here and walked away from both of them. Even bragged about it in the open. He’s just flat-out no good.” Edwina shoved the red lollipop back into her jaw and frowned. “Hmm. I think I’ve discovered a new flavor. Cherry Tootsie Pop and margaritas.”
The bit of news about Lester, coupled with the horse abuse Paige had witnessed earlier, downgraded Paige’s opinion of him further. The thought of how he had looked her up and down gave her the creeps. “How awful,” Paige said. “And the poor little kids—”
“Yep. Mandy Holland’s dad keeps a loaded shotgun in his truck, just hoping he’ll have the chance to empty it at Lester. Child support ain’t enough, he says.”
“Buddy already kept Butch Peterson from taking care of him with his fists,” Debbie Sue added. “Butch told Buddy that if he ever gets the opportunity, even the Texas Rangers can’t keep him from settling up with Lester for what he did to his daughter and his granddaughter.”
“Hand me that margarita pitcher,” Edwina ordered, and Paige stood up and complied. “He’s hanging out now with a married woman. She and her husband have already got three kids, but she’s so in love with Lester, she’ll probably be his next victim. Lester calls her a broodmare, the bastard.”
Paige felt her eyes bug. Lester was even worse than she had thought. “Oh, my gosh!” She swallowed a big gulp of her drink.
“Maybe her husband’ll do what Mandy Holland’s dad hasn’t been able to.” Edwina rose and clomped to the back room, carrying the empty margarita pitcher. She returned with it refilled and poured glasses full all around. “Personally, I don’t know how he can afford his lifestyle. I imagine Harley pays him a decent wage, but ol’ Les spends money like water.”
“Yep,” Debbie Sue agreed. “Buys his clothes at Leddy’s in Fort Worth. Flashes jewelry like a pimp. But, hey, let’s change the subject. Who cares about Lester?”
“What’re we gonna talk about?” Edwina asked. “We’ve covered the dance at Peaceful Oasis. What else is there?…Oh, I know. That new vet. I got a gander at him a couple of days ago in the grocery store. Lord, that man’s good-looking. He was with a black-haired woman. They were laughing and carrying on to beat all.” Edwina returned to her seat in the hydraulic chair, gesturing toward Paige with her glass. “If I was you, that’s the one I’d set my hat for.”
Paige felt a sensation she couldn’t explain. A sick feeling. So he was involved with someone. That was why she hadn’t heard from him or seen him. That explained his aloofness. But then, how could he not be taken? How could she have been so foolish to think this gorgeous man, this catch of all catches, wouldn’t already be caught?
The thought of him laughing with someone bothered her the most. He had never laughed with her. She had seen only a rare smile from him, but it was enough to make her long for more. She wanted to throw her glass against the wall, yell “fuck,” and leave the salon. But she willed herself to remain seated and expressionless. “Oh, are you talking about Dr. Atwater? I met him the other night at Debbie Sue’s. He seems nice enough, but if he’s taken—”
“Taken? Who said anything about him being taken?” Edwina slurred. “He was buying groceries, not wedding rings. Lord, hon, no band on his hand means he’s fair game.”
“Leave her alone, Ed,” Debbie Sue admonished. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Paige. She once told a guy’s girlfriend she had only a week to live, so his girlfriend would let him go out with her. Then she married him.”
Paige stared at Edwina and blinked.
“I don’t know who Spur was with,” Debbie Sue said, “but I saw the way he looked at you the other night over supper. He’s inte
rested. Very interested.”
“God, I hope you’re right,” Paige blurted out before she thought. Oops. She had let the cat out of the bag. She waited for an onslaught of questions from the women, but none came. They both just nodded, as if they already knew.
Edwina was right. Spur wasn’t married and surely, if he was engaged, it would have come out at Debbie Sue’s when he was discussing his future plans. Paige’s competitive nature surged. Yep, he was still on the market, and she, being one to never miss an opportunity to go shopping, was going to cruise his aisles every chance she got. If Edwina and Debbie Sue didn’t know the woman he was with, that meant she didn’t live in Salt Lick. Paige McBride had the home field advantage.
Begging off a third margarita, Paige left the ladies of the Styling Station. Even more enticing than the tequila and good company was a warm sudsy bubble bath followed by slathering lotion all over her sore body. She wanted to call Daddy before going to bed and tell him about her day. She might even try to make contact with Sunny.
As she pulled from her parking spot she lowered the Escalade’s windows. The perfect fall evening shouldn’t be shut out. The aromas of the evening were delectable—moist soil, hay, and decaying leaves mixed with the smell of burning wood and somebody’s supper cooking. This luxury of driving with open windows had been unthinkable in the city, what with the noise and the foul swampy air. But here, the air was clean and dry. There was definitely no swampy air and no swamp. So far, she hadn’t seen any water except what came from the tap.
Paige closed her eyes and felt an incredible sense of peace, followed by an all-consuming pang of hunger. The lunch she packed for herself that morning—brie and cocktail crackers—had seemed adequate at the time, but she had devoured it hours ago.
The thought of fixing something cold at home sounded yucky. She would make good use of the drive-in window at Hogg’s. She’d heard from more than one person that the food was good, hot, and greasy. Just the thought made her mouth water. Spotting the pink and black sign on the right side of the road, she turned in to the busy eatery’s drive-through line.
The menu was limited, to be sure. Hamburgers with or without cheese, french fries, onion rings, chocolate or vanilla malts, and a variety of soft drinks. Not exactly a mind-taxing choice, but most definitely a fattening one. Paige knew what she wanted and drove forward only to be stopped by a sawhorse with a makeshift sign attached—SPEAKERS BROKE. COME ON INSIDE. WE DON’T CARE HOW YOU LOOK.
No way was Paige going home without a sack of fat-saturated food. As she circled the café she scanned the parked vehicles for Spur’s pickup but didn’t see it. Good. She didn’t want him to see her looking like a field hand. She gave the mirror a quick glance, rubbed some dirt off her forehead, and gave up. What the heck? She’d be in and out before anyone saw her.
THE FIRST THING Spur spotted when he pulled into Hogg’s parking lot was Paige McBride’s black Cadillac. He didn’t know how many more encounters with her he could endure without making an ass of himself. He had been trying unsuccessfully to put her out of his mind for days.
One thing he supposed he would have to accept living in a small town was the inevitability that he would run into her or be thrown into her company. He sat in the cab of his idling truck mulling over his options. He could drive back to his trailer and find…what? Cereal? He still had a box of Wheaties, but no milk. A sandwich? There was baloney in the fridge, but he had finished off the last of the bread at breakfast. Damn. He had just bought groceries, too, but the trailer’s tiny cupboards didn’t even allow for necessities, much less surplus. After a quick analysis, he determined dry cereal, baloney, and a pack of Twinkies were not a suitable reward for the day’s work he had just finished. He would go in, grab something to go, and get out fast. Besides, maybe she had only parked there and wasn’t inside. She didn’t really look like the greasy food type.
Resolve in place, he killed the engine and slid out of his truck. Stuffing his keys into his jeans pocket, he nodded hello to a pack of teenagers sitting at the two picnic tables just outside the door. A couple of the boys he recognized. They had come by the clinic asking to see his Southwest Conference Championship rings. News of his football career had spread quickly through Salt Lick, and the fact that he was an Aggie and a college hero made him a celebrity. In that way, Salt Lick was like most West Texas towns.
The teenage girls were less subtle. His being nearly thirty didn’t keep them from giving him the once-over, giggling and making attempts to appear alluring. God, women, no matter their ages, confused him.
Everyone assumed he was an expert on women because there had been a few. He had taken advantage of certain opportunities his status had brought him—what man wouldn’t? The encounters had been nothing more than hookups, and while physically satisfying, they had left him feeling empty so many times, he now worked to avoid them. Though groupies expected nothing more than a session of raunchy sex with a sports hero, he couldn’t keep from thinking how angry he would be if a man treated one of his sisters in such a casual way.
The first thing he spotted when he entered the brightly lit dining room was Her, and his step faltered. Her hair hung in a golden cascade of curls down her back, contrasting against a pink sweatshirt. Those long legs filled worn, dirty Wranglers, and her boots had seen better days.
She stood in the order line, weight on one foot, one hip cocked to the side, lazily rocking side to side as she read the menu. Oh, man, she looked as good from the back as she did from the front. Keep your naked, bare-it-all Playboy centerfolds. The woman standing in front of him was the real deal and sexy as hell. His roommate thought so anyway. He removed his hat, partly because he was taught to always do so when entering a room, but mainly to hide his alter ego.
A hay straw clung to one of her blond curls. Stepping behind her, but being careful to keep a safe distance, he gently plucked it from the ringlet. “Is this something for your scrapbook, to remind you of your first day on the job?”
Paige turned so quickly she stumbled, and he reached out and caught her elbow. Her eyes were blue as the sky on a clear day and they held a startled expression. “Huh? Oh, no!” She twisted, trying to see her back side. “Do I have hay all over me?”
Spur grinned. “No, just this one little straw.”
She had splotches of dirt on her forehead and nose and not much makeup. As far as he was concerned, she could never be more beautiful.
“I must look a fright.” She began dusting at her sleeves. “I tried to go through the drive-up window, but it’s broken. Please don’t look at me. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Oh, c’mon, now. You look pretty good to me. But then I’ve been looking at the south end of heifers most of the day.”
She laughed. “Well, thanks a lot. That makes me feel so much better.”
Spur laughed, too. Striving for casual, he said, “So, did you get moved in to your new place?”
“Yes. Yes I did. I love it. I don’t have any furniture in the living room yet, but I will. Christmas is two months away, and I’ve already decided where I’m putting the Christmas tree. I have the perfect place for a tree.”
“What’s with women and Christmas trees? When I was a kid every time we moved to a new place my mom would worry about where to put the Christmas tree.”
Paige smiled, her eyes warm. She had the most perfect white teeth he had ever seen. But then she had probably had a whole team of dentists, the best money could buy.
“You orderin’, ma’am?” the counter helper asked.
“Uh, yes. I’ll have a Chuck Wagon Meal.”
“Yes, ma’am. You get a big Coke with that.”
“Great.” After paying, Paige stepped out of line, went to the cold drink machine, and filled a Styrofoam cup. She took a nearby seat at a small square table. No time like the present, Spur told himself as he paid for his own order. He walked over to her table. “Mind if I sit with you?”
“No, of course not. Please do.”
He sat dow
n opposite her and placed his hat on an empty chair seat.
“How’s your foot?” she asked, leaning over to look at his boot.
“It’s okay. Didn’t slow me down a bit. You’re getting off work kinda late, aren’t you?”
Paige explained that she’d had a margarita with Debbie Sue and Edwina earlier.
“I really like Debbie Sue and Buddy,” Spur said. “Nice folks. But I don’t know what to make of Edwina.”
“I know what you mean. She may be one of those people you have to get to know, but I like her anyway. She doesn’t hesitate to say what’s on her mind.”
“Maybe that’s it. I like honesty, but I’m almost afraid of what she’s going to say.” Spur shifted his large frame in the small chair, bumping Paige’s knee.
“’Scuse me,” he said, hoping a big grin hid the fact that his pulse surged.
“Oh, that’s okay.” She moved her knee and laughed. “It’s my long legs. Sometimes I don’t know where to put them.”
He could think of a place but decided it best not to say it. “No, it’s my fault. I’m long-legged, too.” They laughed together.
“Guess we do make quite a pair of giants,” she said. You must be what, six two or three? I’m five ten.”
“I’d say you’re just about right.” He smiled. Shocked at himself for saying such a thing, he felt a flush crawling up his neck. “So,” he started, feeling a need for a change of subject, “wonder what single people do in this town for entertainment?” Shit, could he sound any hokier?
Before she could answer or he could embarrass himself further, a female voice called over a loudspeaker, “Number tee-un. Number tee-un.”
At the same time, a laugh burst out of him and Paige both. “I know this is West Texas where we all talk funny,” he said, “but I don’t think I ever heard anybody say ten with two syllables.”