California Girl

by Rice, Patricia

  “James Garner!” Alys cried, eyeing the cream-colored shirt with a top-stitched yoke that he’d chosen as the least horrifying of the lot. “You need a fancy western vest and you could look like a gambler instead of a cowboy.”

  “I don’t want to look like a gambler or a cowboy.” But Alys looked at him as if he were James Garner and Clint Eastwood rolled into one, and with resignation, Elliot tried on a pair of brown stitched boots.

  They were remarkably comfortable. Standing, testing the heels and toes, wearing the faded jeans she’d chosen, tucking his fingers into the belt loops in imitation of some old cowboy movie he must have seen, he felt like a cowboy. He even gave in and let Alys pound a flattish brown Stetson on his head. He hated his curly hair anyway. Might as well cover it up. At least the hat wasn’t one of those ten-foot-tall jobs, or one with a turquoise-and-silver headband like the one she was trying on.

  She looked cute with the broad brim shading her light eyes. She tilted it at a rakish angle, and his heart picked up a beat. She still wore her faded blue halter and black jeans, but the black hat with its sparkly headband suited her.

  He was disappointed when she hung it back on its hook and turned to smile in approval at him.

  “Perfect. Now we can go riding in the canyon tomorrow, and you’ll look as if you belong there.”

  She spun around to investigate a rack of leather belts, leaving him reeling in her wake. Riding in the canyon? Horseback? Tomorrow? He hadn’t even planned how to get through today. He had deadlines to meet, work to finish. He hadn’t planned on a roller-coaster ride with a lunatic in a pink Cadillac from which there didn’t seem to be any getting off.

  When she handed him the hand-tooled belt she’d chosen, Elliot refused to put it on. “Does this mean you packed riding clothes in those enormous suitcases of yours?”

  She blinked in surprise. “I’m wearing jeans. I have a baseball cap to shade my eyes. And a scarf for my neck!” She beamed as if she’d told him she had silver and gold.

  Elliot caught her shoulder before she could spin away again. “The hat you had on looked good. Get that, and I’ll agree to wear the rest of this ridiculous gear.”

  “Do you have any idea how much this stuff costs?” she asked in incredulity. “You don’t have to buy any of it. I just wanted to see how you looked in it. Cool, isn’t it?”

  She darted off, leaving Elliot to stare at the startled clerk who’d overheard. She just wanted to see how he looked in it? No way. He wasn’t buying that for an instant. Women did not simply look at clothes and walk away. He might be out of touch, but he wasn’t comatose.

  “I’ll take these,” he told the clerk, who looked more than relieved. “And add the hat she was looking at.”

  Elliot caught up with Alys in the bolero tie section. There wasn’t any way she was getting him into one of those string nooses, but that wasn’t on his mind when he caught her shoulder again.

  “Boots,” he ordered, steering her toward the shoe department. “If I’m wearing them, you’re wearing them.”

  “My suitcases are already too heavy,” she argued, resisting his push. “I ought to be looking for cheap luggage. Or at least a backpack.”

  “Boots.” He sat her down in the women’s boot department and gestured at the clerk following him around. “Black ones. With some kind of silver things on them to go with the hat.”

  “They cost hundreds of dollars,” she whispered. “I had no idea they cost so much. Let’s get out of here before they start toting up all this stuff.”

  “Clothes cost money. These jeans were cheap. A hundred bucks for a hat is no big deal. When was the last time you looked at prices?”

  At her wounded look, it dawned on him. Maybe he ought to just go bang his head against the plate glass window a few times. Dumb, Elliot. Her husband had died after years of illness. She had no job. She’d sold her damned house. Mame had been paying her way. He’d been hanging around with the comfortable crowd too long.

  “I’ll write it off as research,” he said with an edge of desperation. “I can probably get a show out of it, and a chapter in the next book.”

  “Yeah, how to shop your way to fitness in two easy days,” she scoffed.

  She started to rise, but he stood in front of her chair, blocking her egress as the short clerk tottered over bearing a swaying tower of boot boxes.

  “Out of my way, Elliot,” she said between clenched teeth. “You forget, I know karate and a few other more useful martial arts.”

  “It won’t kill you to try the boots on.” He refused to budge.

  “I can break bones in your foot,” she warned.

  “Not while I’m wearing cowboy boots,” he taunted.

  Grasping his shirt front, she planted her feet on his booted toes, and he rocked backward—into the clerk with the tower of boxes.

  Hats and boxes and boots flew everywhere, bouncing off narrow shelves of more boxes, and toppling the stacks.

  Wrapping his arm around Alys’s waist, Elliot hauled her off his feet, but he couldn’t swivel fast enough to catch anything.

  Hanging on to Alys, gazing at the chaos they’d created together, he had the amazing urge to laugh out loud, only he figured he’d end up rolling on the floor with some of the loose hats if he really let go.

  “After this, we’re spending a lot of money here,” he told her, before setting her down and hurrying to help the traumatized clerk.

  Alys dropped to her knees to scramble after boots and boxes while the clerk insisted it was no problem at all. She was trembling and didn’t quite know why. She should laugh this off. It was no big deal. They were just a bunch of boots. She’d done stupider things in her lifetime. Mame would be singing about rounding up dogies right now.

  She wasn’t Mame.

  Had she thought she was?

  She sure didn’t want to be, not after Elliot had held her like that. He wasn’t even mad. He’d held her as if he’d done it all his life, as if she belonged in his arms, as if they fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle. It had seemed so natural, it had scared her half to death.

  She didn’t even know if he knew he was doing it. She’d given him one glimpse of sex, and he’d adopted a decidedly proprietary attitude. She didn’t think their little power struggle was in any way similar to his manner toward Mame. It had felt like raw sex.

  Hiding her flushed cheeks, she dug under a chair for a runaway boot. Broad hands captured her waist and hauled her upright.

  He was doing it again. She stared up into Elliot’s short-lashed dark eyes and caught her breath. His gaze dipped when she filled her lungs, reminding her that she was wearing a halter with nothing under it. The smolder developing in his eyes warned he’d noticed.

  “We’ll buy them all if you don’t sit down and try them on,” he growled.

  “What happened to Doc Nice?” she asked in low tones as he released her in front of a chair.

  “He met up with Alys Oakley. I may have to buy leather gloves and pack a pistol. Sit.”

  She sat. She wanted to argue. She wanted to wriggle away just to assert her rights. But he’d been cooperative with all her whims until now, and she kind of liked the way he’d just asserted his rights. If he had any. She hadn’t decided about that yet.

  “Remember, I know karate,” she reminded him as Elliot pointed out a pair of boots to the clerk.

  “You can break boards. Can you hit a moving target?” He lifted his expressive dark eyebrows.

  The boots he’d chosen for her had gorgeous stitching all across the toe, a dainty silver-and-turquoise chain at the ankle, and heels that would really let her look him in the eye. They fit her feet as if they’d been tailored for her. Sighing with regret, Alys stood. Well, she could almost look him in the eye. Her nose reached his chin.

  “Want to find out if I can hit a moving target?” she asked.

  In answer, he leaned over and kissed her.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Alys wore her sparkly new
boots and hat into the morning sunshine, and her head still spun from that kiss.

  She didn’t know what he was doing to her, but she liked it too much to believe it was safe. On the other hand, the air was charged with positive vibrations and Elliot wasn’t rubbing his chest.

  She halted to admire the jaunty tilt of her hat in a window, and admired Elliot’s long, lean reflection in the process. With his flat Stetson and boots, he only needed a holster on his hip to complete the image. In the window, they presented the appearance of a perfect couple.

  She didn’t want to be part of a couple. She wanted to be herself.

  “I’ll pay you back for these,” she insisted, for the umpteenth time.

  “Find Mame for me, and we’ll call it even.” He caught her elbow and steered her onward.

  “You can’t buy my loyalty,” she protested. “Just because you look like a cowboy doesn’t mean you have to behave like one.” But she liked it when he held her arm. It was kind of like being chosen by the most popular boy in class. She’d had that feeling with Fred, too.

  Dangerous.

  For these last few years she’d only thought of Fred in terms of his illness and death. She’d nearly forgotten the love they’d shared. He’d given her good times, years of laughter and love. She ought to remember them more and let go of the pain.

  Elliot was reawakening emotions that might better be left alone, but he was giving her happy memories, too.

  Unwilling to give up more happiness than she’d known in a long time, she swung along at his side, delighting in watching heads turn to follow Elliot’s long-legged stride as they walked by. Hers, for a day. That could work.

  Other than attracting attention, they accomplished nothing at the stockyard. If Mame had been there that day, they had no way of finding out. Wandering the old street of run-down buildings, looking for a suitable restaurant, Alys tried to think like Mame.

  “She’d choose a steak place,” she decided. “She’d figure you’d eat vegetarian.”

  “Every place in Oklahoma is a steak place, if you haven’t noticed,” he said wryly. “That’s why we’re in a stockyard. It’s cow country.”

  “Then let’s choose one with homemade pies.”

  “Because Mame likes pies or because she figures I don’t eat them?”

  “Because I like pies.” Reading the menu outside what appeared to be a popular restaurant, she checked the dessert offerings first. “Black-bottom pie,” she said in satisfaction.

  “I’m not even going to ask.” He escorted her into the crowded, dim lobby where a miniskirted cowgirl led them to a booth. “You will eat a real meal, first, won’t you?”

  He sounded so pained, she had to laugh. “I’ll have to read your diet books pretty soon if I don’t start eating right. You don’t understand what a joy it is to eat real food instead of the frozen cardboard I’ve been surviving on. Cooking for one is depressing.”

  “That’s how I’ve always eaten,” he admitted. “I never thought of it as depressing. Just necessary.”

  “Isn’t this more fun? Did you have any idea there were so many ways to fix a steak?” She scanned the menu, trying to decide how much real food she could eat and still leave room for pie.

  “Miss Seagraves?” A bow-tied waiter in a vest and carrying a box stopped by the booth, disconcerting both of them with his knowledge of her name.

  “Mame.” Elliot was out of the booth before Alys could open her mouth.

  She watched him disappear toward the lobby while she smiled at the startled waiter. “He’s the restless sort. I’m Alys Seagraves. How did you know my name?”

  “The red-haired lady said to give you this.” He handed over the box with a card taped on top. The box moved.

  Alys rummaged through her purse for a dollar, handed it to the boy, and with skepticism, eyed the box he deposited on the table. Maybe she ought to wait for Elliot to return before opening it. A box that moved and—purred?—might need two hands. Mame wouldn’t give her a cougar or anything, would she?

  She slit the envelope attached and read Mame’s spidery handwriting on the card inside. I promised a friend that a doctor would look at Purple’s paw. You and Elliot looked real cute in your cowboy clothes. Have someone take a picture.

  Elliot was about to go ballistic. Fanning herself with the card and chuckling softly, Alys watched for his return. Mame had been somewhere close by and just recently. She was fine.

  Alys wasn’t so certain about the creature inside the box. It whimpered and sniffed along the box walls. Purple? Who called an animal Purple?

  She couldn’t leave the poor thing in there forever. Elliot must be out canvassing the street. Or maybe he’d even found Mame. She ought to be out there refereeing the fight, if he had. She couldn’t leave the box here.

  Cautiously, she slipped a string loose. The box lid jostled and the occupant cried louder. If a baby mountain lion jumped out of this thing, she wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences.

  She worked at another string, sliding it over a corner until it fell on the table. The cross-tie remained, but it was loose.

  Before she could figure out how to open it without letting the creature out, one side of the box lid pushed up, the string slid off, and a furry gray-and-white ball leaped for freedom.

  Diving from the table, the animal flew under the bench of the next booth. Alys almost tumbled out of her seat trying to catch it. Knocking her water glass off, she fell down on her hands and knees to search for the creature.

  Poking her head into the darkness and thanking the heavens that no one was sitting on the bench, Alys cornered the hissing kitten. Kitten, not cougar.

  “This is another one of those things I don’t want to ask about, isn’t it?” Somewhere behind her upturned rear, Elliot’s voice was dryer than the dust-covered roads they’d driven in on.

  Chapter Ten

  Alys’s jeans fit her nicely rounded buttocks in a way that had every man in the place staring. Elliot was tempted to grab her slender waist and haul her out from under the table. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the last time he’d lifted her, even if he’d had to leave an extra-large tip for the clerk who’d had to scurry for boots and boxes in the resultant crash.

  But he wasn’t a dumb brute. He had to figure she was under the table for a reason and that reason had something to do with the now empty box sitting on their table. If she backed out carrying a rat, he was drawing the line.

  She wriggled from beneath the table carrying a bundle of protesting fur.

  “Did you find Mame?” she gasped as she stood up, attempting to calm the clawing animal.

  She didn’t seem the least fazed by sharp claws or shrieking howls. Did nothing freak her out? Every person in the restaurant was staring at them as if they were an entertaining circus, and she seemed intent only on Mame. And she thought he was focused?

  “No,” he answered in disgust. “I didn’t see the Rover either. I looked everywhere. How does she do that?”

  “Mame is a great believer in walking.” With a wry lift of her eyebrow, she looked from the screaming kitten, to the box on the table, to the waiter hurrying toward them, and asked, “Do you think we ought to leave?”

  “I don’t think we can stay here with a pet unless it’s a seeing-eye kitten.” Pulling the waiter aside, Elliot explained their dilemma while Alys tucked the protesting kitten back in the box and held the lid tight.

  “They’ll pack us some salads to go. Let’s go outside before we attract any more attention.” He took her elbow and led her past the staring patrons. “What did Mame’s note say?”

  “That she promised someone that a doctor would look at Purple’s paw. Honestly, do you think she looks purple?” Stepping back into the heat, Alys peeked beneath the lid and the kitten spit and roared again.

  “Is she expecting me to look at a cat’s paw?” Leaning against the restaurant wall, Elliot rolled his eyes. “Does she want me to become a vet?”

  “Well, it would keep you home mo
re often.” Now that they were outside, she removed the kitten from the box and held it up for his inspection.

  In guilty silence, he examined the kitten, finding the sore paw and probing until he discovered a thorn. “Mame has my medical bag in the Rover. How am I supposed to pull this out?”

  “Tweezers. I have some in my suitcase. I have a first-aid kit. Can we use human antiseptics on kittens?”

  “Like I know?” Seeing their waiter appear in the entrance, Elliot walked over to sign away his life on the credit card, including another large tip to cover the service of boxing up the lunches. He could see where having Alys around could become an expensive proposition, but he had to admit it was the best entertainment he’d had in years.

  He was actually hungry.

  Handing over the receipt, he accepted their doggie bags. Or maybe they were kitty bags. The smell of food calmed the creature instantly.

  “We can eat in the parking lot. It’s almost empty.” Carrying the kitten in one hand and the box in the other, Alys swung down the street in her high-heeled boots and sparkly hat.

  All they needed was Mame to complete the parade. Elliot glanced over his shoulder in hopes of catching his aunt peering out at them from a doorway. No such luck.

  Straddling a bench near the car, Alys divided her attention between the cat box on the ground and the lunch Elliot set out from the bags. He was gratified by her cry of delight when she discovered the small container of tuna for the kitten and the black-bottom pie he’d ordered for her.

  Almost wishing for a juicy steak instead of the salad he’d ordered, he watched Alys feed the kitten in between bites of pie.

  She ate her dessert first.

  “Didn’t you say you were plump as a child?” He had a hard time reconciling it with her current slenderness. “If you always eat like this, how did you ever lose an ounce?”