by BA Tortuga
“You think so? They’re incredibly handy.”
“Oh, I don’t know. There’s something to be said for a woman who can make polite conversation without downloading pornography or ugliness in between sentences.”
Emily’s mouth twitched, and she knew it was coming—she knew it, but she couldn’t stop it no matter how much she tried. “Absolutely. You could say she couldn’t give a good blow job and keep her man happy and became a bitter, nosy old hag. Then again, that might be rude.”
Oh, man. That felt good.
Almost as good as hearing Cotton’s mom burst out into laughter. “No shit, Emmy. Let’s go get a drink while these two finish up.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m right behind you.”
* * * *
Lord, it had been a month of Sundays since Cotton had spent so much time with the male members of his family.
He thought, very privately, that it could have been another month of the same. The hunting trip was really just a plot to get him away from the house and grill him about Emmy. He saw that now.
“She wears some awful weird clothes, Cotton.”
“She has tattoos, man.”
“What kind of work is it she does with monkeys?”
“What’s she like in bed?”
That last had him turning on his cousin Tanner and whacking him right in the mouth. No one talked about his girl that way.
Tanner stared at him, eyes wide, lip swelling right up. “Jesus, Cotton. What was that for?”
“That was filthy. Bad enough I got to be away from her all the time while we’re here, but I won’t have you insulting her.”
“Well, it ain’t me you got to worry on, really.” Tanner wiped his hand over his mouth. “That’d be your sister.”
Cotton swore, shaking his head. “I’ll talk to her when we get back.”
“You do that, man. She don’t like your girl at all.”
Cotton couldn’t see Ali being ugly or nothin’, but he’d talk to her anyway. Just to be sure. He wanted Emmy to be happy around his family.
Even if it killed them.
Chapter Thirteen
“Eight ball in the corner pocket.” Em leaned over, made the shot, and heard Cotton groan. Dude, she’d won at least a six pack off the man since they’d gotten to the club. The ball slid right into the pocket, and Cotton silently handed over more money for her to take to the bar. His eyes never left her tits.
“You want another Bud, baby?” She’d never had so much fun on New Year’s Eve.
“Uh-huh. Please.” Cotton was the best sport ever. He just kept betting.
“You got it. Rack ’em up.” At the word ‘rack’, those eyes landed on her boobs again.
By the time she got back with another beer, though, Cotton had the balls racked up and was waiting for her to break. He loved to watch her break. He’d said so. Three times.
She handed him his beer, kissed his cheek then bent to play. So what if she was wearing a little mini-kilt and rumba panties? Cotton grunted, and she could feel the air move when he almost grabbed her ass. Almost.
She glanced over her shoulder, her long braid falling onto the table. “You think I’m lined up right?”
“I think you can do anything in the world from that position.” Bless him. He sounded like he’d swallowed a frog.
“I think that I’ll reserve what I’ll do from this position to a very few things.”
“With me.” That was his hand on her ass. He hid it from the rest of the room with his body.
“Yeah, baby.” She shivered, toes curling in her platform Mary Janes. Caroline had rented them a hotel room within walking distance, informing them that she wouldn’t have her kids driving.
A hotel. Her. Cotton. A bed. That was going to feel like some weird kind of luxury. Especially the part where the door locked.
She took her shot, breaking cleanly enough, even though Cotton’s hand squeezed her ass. He’d kept trying to distract her, but she thought he was the one who was all flustered. His jeans had sure got tight.
“I’m stripes.” She sank two more, then missed.
“I’m easy.” He was so easy. Well, for her. He’d been ignoring everyone else.
Em thought it was maybe pissing some people off, too. No one had said anything. Yet. There were some ugly looks going around, though, mostly from the guys. It was bizarre.
Cotton didn’t have a queer bone in his body. She should know. She’d dated a lot of guys that did. Mouse, for example, was sexually ambidextrous. Hell, Mouse would just walk by and fall into people. Cotton, though, Cotton was…picky.
Hers.
She liked the sound of that. Liked it a lot.
“You’re up, honey.” He’d sunk two while she was musing on his not-queerness.
“Man, a two-fer!” She judged her options, sliding around the table to take a shot.
“I know! Go figure, huh?” He winked at her.
“I’m a lucky girl.” She took her shots, sinking three balls.
“You are. You’re also hotter than July in Houston.”
“Thank you.” She beamed, leaned over and kissed him.
“Mmm.” There were a couple of jeers, hoots and hollers, and Cotton broke off to glare at all of the Peanut Gallery. That only served to make them louder, but the weird part was, nobody came over, really. Not to say hi to Cotton, not to have a beer. They all kept carefully back, as if she had the plague or something.
“You okay, honey?” Cotton glanced at her sideways, one eyebrow going up.
“Yep. I’m great.” She grinned at him, winked. “Be better after I win this game.”
“You think? Just for that, I’m gonna concentrate.” He rubbed some chalk on the tip of his cue. “So, where did you learn to play pool?”
“I have two brothers. They used to make me win a game to get them to take me to the mall.” She’d been a huge mall bunny back then.
“Ah. We didn’t have a mall close.” That grin was just irrepressible. “I used to think driving into Dallas to go shopping was huge. Momma did it the day after Thanksgiving and the day after Christmas.”
“Yeah, but I grew up in Pasadena, huh?” You could throw up and hit Houston.
“No shit? Somehow I thought you were from Austin.” He took his turn when she missed because she’d turned to stare at him.
“I wish.” She shook her head. “No, I come from the kinds of people who don’t have kids like me. My mom lives in a huge house on the water with a politician who doesn’t even know I’m alive, Houston hair and all.”
“Wow. Guess that explains what you meant when you said your family didn’t do Christmas…” He patted her butt, all sympathy.
“Yeah.” She shrugged, winked. “It was my choice, huh? No regrets.”
“There you go.”
A guy with a baseball cap and a cheek full of chaw came and slapped some quarters down on the side rail of the table, sticking his chin out when Cotton stared. “You’ve had the table a good bit, Sayers.”
Cotton looked puffy, and she touched his arm. “We haven’t danced—”
“No. No, we ain’t, and it’s almost midnight.” He gave the man a hard stare, which made her shiver a little. “We’ll finish this game, though.”
“Yep.” She gave him a wink and a wild grin. “That won’t take long.”
“There you go.” It didn’t take long, as neither of them had their heart in it anymore, and having someone hang over you and watch sucked.
“I’m going to hit the ladies’ room, baby, then we can dance.” They still had an hour to midnight.
“Sounds like a plan.” He kissed her cheek, his hand on her waist for a moment.
Em let herself lean, then headed to the bathroom to do her business. The damn thing was up a flight of rickety stairs, but it was nice to get out of the noise, just for a few minutes.
She waited in the tiny line, then got the last stall, one that was around the corner, sort of. It wasn’t nasty, thank God, but she still covered th
e seat in toilet paper, just to be careful.
She’d finished her business and flushed, was reaching for the door when she heard, “Jesus, who is that fat girl Cotton’s fucking?”
She heard a sigh, then Cotton’s sister’s voice. “You mean Wonder Tits? She’s some whore that he hooked up with in Austin. She’s like…some tattoo parlor slut or something. I cannot believe Mom invited her to stay, like she’s not this skanky thing, like Cotton’s serious or something.”
Em closed her eyes, just frozen a little. She didn’t want to hear any more, but she sort of did, didn’t she? Wanted to hear the truth, to know what the redneck assholes were saying about her?
“Well, she’s kind of hideous, Ali. I mean, Jesus. There’s plenty of girls around here who’d give him a ride. No strings attached. He wouldn’t have to pretend to like them.”
“Not only that…but she’s…well gosh, Ali, can you see her at an event with him? Trying to introduce her to the other riders? To the sponsors?”
“Brittany, you are such a buckle bunny. You just want in his chaps.”
“Well, duh. Doesn’t have to be him, but he could do better than a chunky-assed, nasty witch girl. No one wants something like that around.”
Ali snorted, and Em imagined she could see the girl’s eyes rolling. “Fuck, she’s like all kinky and shit. If she don’t go away, I’ll have Pastor Michaelman talk to Momma.”
“Your momma doesn’t really like her, then? She sure seemed eager to introduce her around.”
There was a sniff there that spoke volumes. “Momma’s just Momma. She’s nice to everyone. We’ll just all pray that Cotton doesn’t get her knocked up. Can you imagine? Her head’s bigger than his shoulders!”
There was mean, vicious laughter, the kind that only girls could manage. “When they fuck, I bet he sinks into her up to the waist.”
Oh, bitches.
She reached out, opened the door and stepped out. “Actually, he catches himself on my clit ring every fucking time, but I’ll let him know you were concerned for his well-being.”
Em washed her hands, nice and thoroughly, refusing to hurry.
Three girls stared at her, faces blank with shock. Two stayed blank. Cotton’s sister’s tried to stretch into a smile, but all that came out was an ugly rictus. “Now, Emily, you won’t say anything to Cotton.”
“Won’t I?” She gave the little bitch her best wide-eyed look. “I’d hate for him to think y’all didn’t care.” She dried her hands, headed for the door.
Cotton was waiting for her when she walked out, and he frowned, straightening up and hurrying over. “Honey? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m going to get some air real quick. The air in that bathroom? Nasty.” She sort of found a smile, then she caught sight of them standing together in the mirror above the bar.
Wow.
Her head was as broad as his shoulders.
“Hey, come on.” He put an arm around her waist, steering her toward the door. “Usually the girl’s room ain’t so bad.”
“No? It’s busy in there.” She saw the gaggle of girls come out, heard Ali gasp.
“Cotton? Bubba? Can you c’mere a second?”
Cotton glanced at her, then at Ali, raising his brow. “She give you hell, honey? I can kick her ass.”
“She was just being a girl, baby. Protecting her brother from the big, bad city girl.” Still… She sucked in her belly a little, feeling like the biggest Amazon broad on earth.
“Ah. Well, here.” He gave her butt a pat and pushed her toward the door. “We’ll go back to the hotel and do our dancing in private, huh? Folks are starting to get drunk. I’ll be right there.”
“Sounds great, Cotton.” She nodded and headed outside into the cold. Dancing in private sounded much less…uncomfortable.
* * * *
He’d had enough. Emmy’d been decent, not given details, but ever since she came out of the bathroom at the club last night, she’d been quiet, sucking in her belly, fretting some. He knew Ali and those evil bitches had given her a raft of shit. That’s why he’d come back to the house earlier than he’d wanted. That and because he was taking Emmy home tonight.
“She’s skanky, Bubba!”
He was going to shake that snotty little girl into next month. “Ali, I swear to God…”
“No, really. Everybody’s talking! She’s like a witch or something, all inked and nasty. Why can’t you find a girl from here? There’s all sorts of them wanting you.” His baby sister wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I don’t see it, but I hear about you and your famous ass all the time. Cotton, the big time bull rider.”
He actually snorted. Right. Big time. He traveled in a broke-dick van with five of his closest friends. He was living high on the fucking hog.
“Don’t snort. There’s all sorts of gals that want you. Why her?”
“’Cause she’s the one I want, Ali.” Cotton shrugged. He didn’t get it, why no one understood. Emmy was… God, how could a guy ever want anything else, ever? She rocked his world, with her laugh and her smarts and the way she looked at him. The way she smelled and the way her lips felt wrapped around his…
“Are you even listening to me?” Man, she was screeching.
“Nope, and he shouldn’t be, either.” Momma’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Emmy’s a neat lady, strong, smart. I like her, and she likes my boy.”
“Momma! Quit fucking encouraging him! He’s fucking that slimy, nasty little cunt.”
Cotton growled, but it was Momma’s hand that shot out, quick as a snake’s, and popped Ali on the chin, all snap and no power, but enough to shut Ali down. “You watch your mouth. Emily is my guest here, and I won’t have it.”
Ali stared at her, then burst into tears, screaming “I hate you!” as she ran.
Momma sighed, rolled her eyes. “Promise me, son, when you and Emily have babies, that they’re all boys. All big, burly, football-playing, non-drama boys.”
He chuckled, the idea of his Emmy having his babies sending an ache into his belly. “You have my word, Momma.”
She patted his cheek. “Good boy. Go make us a pot of coffee.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Emily, we need to talk to you.”
She stared up at Dyson and blinked. That didn’t sound good.
Not at all.
“Am I in trouble?” She hadn’t done anything weird. Nothing.
Hell, she was hip-deep in the animation of a kid’s game that Carson had given her, too busy to do anything except drag her ass home at night and chat with Cotton.
Mmm. Cotton.
“No. No, we just… Come on. Let’s walk.”
This was bad. She knew it was bad. There was no way in hell this wasn’t crappy. “Do I need my purse?”
“No, we’ll just get a coffee at Mongo’s. I’ll buy.” Dyson looked like shit and Emily started praying. This was a shitty time of the year to lose your job. Hell, a shitty time in history. And Austin was the town voted least likely to find anywhere you weren’t undercut by one of a zillion Longhorns hunting for less money. She had been lucky to intern at the Monkeys during her Masters work. The job had fallen into her lap. A happy miracle, she’d told her brothers. A sign.
It was cold—bitter and windy and just awful—and the door swung back and almost knocked her over. Boss One caught her and she smiled at him.
“Are y’all getting rid of me?”
The silence told her all she needed to know, and Em had the feeling the coffee was going to taste like ashes.
* * * *
Two weeks’ severance and a reference.
God.
God.
Emily headed home, the rain coming down hard, slamming down on her, soaking her to the bone and making her cold as hell. This sucked, like whoa.
All she wanted was to get inside, get on the computer, talk to Cotton, and cry.
Damn it.
A huge Hemi came barreling by, water splashing up in a huge arc. The guys saw her—tw
o fucking rednecks aiming for the weirdo. Goodie. She couldn’t run fast enough to avoid it, so she just turned away, tugged her hood up, and let her back take the brunt of the spray.
Filthy rainwater slipped down the back of her neck, creeping in where her hood buttoned on. Yay. Maybe she’d just cry first.
Em made it up the stairs, locked the door behind her and stood, dripping and shivering.
She’d been a good employee. Of course, all of them had. The guys had all gotten the news right after Christmas. “We didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” they’d said.
Em had the sneaking suspicion that they’d wanted more work done on that damned kiddie game. The twins were going to have to do the work themselves.
Downsize.
Slow production.
What the fuck ever.
She kicked her heels off and made sure her phone was dried before she dialed Cotton’s number, waited.
“Hey.”
She teared up, just at the sound of his voice. “Hey, baby.”
“You okay?”
“Been a long day.” She could hear laughter, music. Girls. “You partying?”
“Sorta. I’m at this deal with the tire place. Doing a kissing booth deal for charity. It’s going good.”
She heard another set of giggles, a little husky voice going, “Me next. You remember me, Cotton?”
“Charity Lynne? Is that you, girl? Man, you’ve grown up good…”
Em sighed, shook her head. “I’ll call you later, Cotton. Don’t work too hard.”
“I have a couple of parties tonight, Emmy. Tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’ll be around. Night, Cotton.”
“Cool. ’Kay. Bye!”
The phone went dead, and she hung up, then dialed Mouse. She needed somebody.
Anybody would do, just so long as they had time to sit with her and hold her hand for a minute.
* * * *
Cotton thought he might just go crazy.
He hadn’t been alone for three fucking days. He hadn’t had any time off except to sleep in damned near three weeks. He’d thought taking that sponsorship from that big boot company would be a good idea.