by Ciana Stone
Roxie hated to admit it, but Dini was right. Sure, they could find a beach, a place to crash for a few weeks, drink, lie in the sun and watch what little funds they had slip away. Or…
Or what?
“So what’s the alternative?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Find some place we can get jobs. You know, regular jobs like regular people. Jobs that don’t require wearing costumes that show most of your tits and ass and wearing those damn high heels.”
“You that sick of dancing?”
“I am, I so am. Once upon a time, I thought being a showgirl in Vegas was the ultimate. Now, I realize all it did was have me waste my youth on nothing. I’ve got no skills, no education, no boyfriend, and no money. Not much to show for nearly thirty years of living.”
“A regular job?” Roxie looked over at Dini. “Seriously? Like what?”
“I don’t know. A teller at a bank, a cashier at Walmart or a waitress at a diner. Someone who works at a library or a daycare. Something—anything that’s real and ordinary.”
“And where would you find this real and ordinary job?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere. A small town, maybe. Yeah.” Dini perked up a bit and a smile lit her face. “That’s it. A small town where I could be Dini Merrill, originally from Reno. A place where people sit on the porch in the evenings and kids play in the yards.”
“Does that really appeal to you?” This wasn’t the first time Dini had voiced such dreams, but Roxie had always figured Dini was just trying to imagine something as different as possible from her real life—the life of a Vegas showgirl. She hadn’t stopped to think that Dini was being serious.
“It does, Rox. It really does.”
Before Roxie could open her mouth to respond, a hideous noise came from the car—a wrenching, screeching, grinding of metal sound that preceded a loud thump and the engine dying.
“Oh, oh, that can’t be good.” Dini looked at Roxie, who was looking in the rearview mirror at what appeared to be parts of her car’s engine on the road behind them.
“Not at all.” Roxie guided the car to the edge of the road, got out and lifted the hood. She didn’t have a clue about engines.
“What do you think?” Dini stood up on the seat and yelled.
Roxie slammed the hood and returned to the car to snatch her phone off the dashboard. “I think we better hope we have a signal so we can figure out where the heck we are and if there’s a garage nearby with a tow-truck.”
She turned on her phone. One bar. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing.
“So who are you going to call?” Dini asked.
“The only number we have,” Roxie replied. “9-1-1.”
*****
Cade shook hands with the realtor and the bank manager, picked up the keys and his closing documents, and left the bank. He hadn’t expected to become a property owner in Cotton Creek. However, a week of staying with his relatives had him ready to pull his hair out.
Not that they weren’t fine people. They were. But Cade was accustomed to a certain level of privacy and there was none to be found at the Sweet’s house. He’s taken Cody up on her offer to stay at the ranch and that was better, but still it wasn’t what he wanted.
So, after three weeks, he’d gotten the name of the local realtor and within a few days, was buying a house. He’d never expected things to move that quickly, but he’d also never paid cash for a house, so that must have made the difference.
Once outside, he got into his car and headed for his new home. It was just three miles outside of town, in what might be called a neighborhood. There were ten houses in the community, each sitting on parcels that were a minimum of ten acres.
His property boasted twenty-five acres, with a horse barn, a paddock, a sizeable pond and a house that fit his ideal country home vision.
When he pulled up in front of the house, he saw Cody’s old truck parked in the driveway and her sitting on the porch steps. There was a six-pack of beer beside her.
“Welcome home.” She stood as he got out of his car.
“What’re you doing here?” He walked to the steps.
“Welcome home party.” She leaned down to pluck a beer from the container. “Well, more like a welcome home beer.” She handed him the beer, took one for herself and twisted off the cap. “Here’s to your new digs, Cuz.”
Cade clinked his beer to hers and took a deep drink. “It’s a nice place. Just have to get some furniture in it.”
“You can stay at the ranch until you do.”
“Thanks, I’d hoped you’d say that.”
“So, you gonna show me around?”
“Absolutely.”
He unlocked the door and they entered.
“I still think it’s weird that you’d buy a house,” Cody said as she wandered through the rooms. “I mean, you were so skittish about committing to being here for six months and now you own a home?”
“Real estate is normally a decent investment, and with the oil boom, chances are I could turn around and sell this place in a month or so and make a killing.”
“Will you?”
“Don’t know.”
Cody put her beer on the kitchen counter and turned to lean back against it, regarding him. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Sure, what?”
“Are you straight or gay?”
Cade smiled. “What’s your take?”
“I’d say straight.”
“Because?”
“The way you look at women.”
“Observant.”
“Observant is a smart way to live, Cuz. “
“Indeed, but what made you ask?”
She shrugged. “Well, you’re hot, dress really well and I mean almost too good for a straight guy, never been married and you haven’t hit on any of the single women who have been practically throwing themselves at you since you got here.”
“Ahh, I see. A straight man would’ve jumped on that shit, right?”
Cody laughed. “Not necessarily.”
“Amen to that. And I guess I could ask the same of you, Cuz.”
She blew a raspberry. “Man, I’m as far from gay as a woman can be, which might be a shame since there’s a damn sight more women than men in Cotton Creek.”
“There are men.”
“Yeah, there are.”
“Just none that interest you?”
“Not so far.”
“Well, that’s about how it is for me.”
“Okay, like I said, just asking. And now, I gotta get. Hannah opened so I gotta close tonight since our new manager took the night off.”
“I can work tonight if you need me. Nothing left for me to do here until I get some furniture.”
“I won’t turn it down.”
“Then let’s hit the road.”
Cade locked the house and got into his car. As he drove away, he cut a look back at the house and was suddenly seized with a longing strong enough to cause a physical reaction. His breath hitched just slightly and his stomach tightened, as in that moment, a wish took hold; a wish that this could end up being a home.
He shoved the thought aside and mentally made fun of himself. He couldn’t find a woman in Cotton Creek he wanted to share a meal with, much less a home. Time to set those romantic fantasies aside and focus on the task at hand, helping Cody and Hannah run the bar, and figuring out what to do with the rest of his life.
*****
Roxie watched her friend, Dini, leave the diner. This week had to go down in the record books as one of the worst. It wasn’t bad enough that the T-Bird had broken down. It’d broken down in Texas. Cotton Creek, Texas to be precise.
Roxie thought Bumfuck, Texas would have been more apt. With a population that boasted just over seven thousand, the likelihood of finding a job that would not only enable her to pay for a place to stay but save enough to fix the car was remote.
Dini had scored a job at the diner where Roxie was now sitting and seemed plenty h
appy about it. She’d left to go check on rooms at a local boarding house. The owner of the diner had offered to put in a good word with the lady who ran the place. Apparently, there had been a huge oil strike in Cotton Creek and people were turning their houses into bed and breakfasts or boarding houses to capitalize on all the new people flooding into town.
With that many strangers in town, Roxie found the diner owner’s attitude both generous and weird. All the woman knew of Dini was what she’d been told the last hour, and Dini could have been lying for all the woman knew.
Things apparently operated different in small towns.
“So, you and your friend are new to town?”
The deep, male voice from the next table had visions of something other than a job dancing in Roxie’s head. Something along the lines of sweat-slicked skin, tangled sheets and low grunts of pleasure.
She turned to see a man whose appearance matched his sexy voice. She gave him a smile before answering. “Yes, we are.”
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On how long it takes to get my car fixed.”
“I see. Oh, excuse me. I’m Cade Beckett.”
“Roxie Ellis.”
“Nice to meet you. So, what did you do in Vegas, Roxie?”
“Guess you heard Dini’s conversation?”
“I was sitting here the whole time.” He gave her a smile that had a quick lusty thought flash through her mind.
“Yeah, I guess you were.”
“So? What did you do?”
“This and that.”
Tall and lean, Cade had the kind of build that was way too tempting. She forced aside the erotic images that sprang to mind and lifted her near-empty soda glass to jiggle the ice cubes.
“Ever work in a bar?”
One eyebrow arched. “You offering me a job, Mr. Beckett?”
“Cade.”
Roxie resisted the urge to shift in her seat. The way he was looking at her made it hard to keep her mind on business. “Well?” she asked.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“How are you at tending bar?”
“I’ve mixed a drink or two.”
“Most of my customers fall into the beer category.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Then I’ve twisted a few caps.”
“Waited tables?”
“Once or twice.”
“Dealt with rowdy fellas who’ve maybe had one too many on a Friday night?”
That prompted a laugh. “Honey, I lived in Vegas.”
Cade chuckled. “Which brings me back to my original question. What exactly did you do in Vegas? Showgirl, dancer?”
Roxie laughed. “No, that’s Dini’s thing.”
“And yours was?”
“Security.”
That wasn’t an answer Cade expected. Roxie looked more like the beauties found on a stage in Vegas. Busty, built, and with legs that made a man fantasize about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.
“Security?”
“Yep.”
“As in bouncer?”
“Yes, I did that. Did most all of it, but for the last few years I worked the high-stakes games as an AP.”
Cade knew what she meant. When there was a lot on the table, most casinos had specialists watching via cameras and AP, or advantage players in the games. Most people would never recognize the advantage players. They dressed like everyone else and acted like everyone else. The only difference was they were the most lethal people in the world to play against because their specialty was being the best at cheating. They knew all the tricks and most of them were blacklisted from gambling.
“Well, I don’t have much of a call for that at the Honky Tonk. But I can offer you a job if you’re interested.”
“How much do you pay?”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Roxie?”
“What’s the point? How much?”
“Minimum wage plus tips.”
Roxie swirled the ice in her glass. “How much is minimum wage for wait staff or bartenders in Texas?”
“The law requires wages of at least two dollars and thirteen cents if you make at least thirty in tips, which I’m guessing you will. If the wages plus tips don’t equal the federal minimum wage of seven-twenty-five an hour, then the employer has to increase the base wages to compensate.”
She surprised him again when she stood. “So bottom line is the max you’re offering is seven-twenty-five an hour? Thanks, anyway. I think I’ll see if there isn’t something else available that pays a bit better.”
“Ten an hour plus tips.”
The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Why was that? Sure, Roxie was one hot babe that he’d purely love to get between the sheets, but attractive women were a dime a dozen. Why did he suddenly have an itch to have her around? And why the hell was he offering her nearly eight dollars more an hour than minimum wage?
She sat back down. “How much does it cost for a room at that place…what’s the name of it?”
“Mrs. Baker’s Boarding House?”
“Yeah, how much?”
“I don’t know for sure. If you’re going to be here for more than a few days or a week, she’d probably cut you a deal. Hundred a week without meals and laundry services.”
“So, are you offering part-time or full time? “ she asked as she mentally calculated. Part time wasn’t going to cut it. She could survive but not save and saving was the name of the game. That and getting out of Cotton Creek.
“What are you looking for?”
“Full time.” She didn’t hesitate with her answer.
“Fine. Full time.”
Roxie mentally ran the numbers. At sixteen hundred a month base salary, minus four hundred for rent, she had twelve hundred left, plus whatever tips she made. And if the Honky Tonk was like every other bar in America, her tips could easily be three times that of her base pay. But being cautious, she’d figure her tips as a match for her salary.
Then there was food. From the prices on the menu at the Blue Belle Café, it’d cost at least a hundred a week for food. That brought her to eight hundred, plus what she made in tips. She needed to be able to save more than she spent. Car repairs were liable to be expensive. Chances were the parts would be hard to find, which would drive the price up.
She wasn’t all that experienced in auto repair, but she was guessing it would cost them somewhere in the neighborhood of three to four thousand to get the T-Bird back on the road. If she wanted to get the heck out of Dodge—or Cotton Creek—as quickly as possible, she was going to need to earn a lot more than ten dollars an hour.
“Twenty-five an hour,” she finally said, meeting his eyes.
Cade snorted. “I can hire almost a dozen gals for that price.”
“Not with my experience.”
“Fifteen an hour.”
“Twenty.”
Cade smiled at her, a lazy, knowing smile she’d seen more than once. It was the smile of a gambler who was holding a pat hand. Funny thing was that she’d never seen that smile look quite so sexy, or had it affect her with a sudden tightening of her nipples and warmth that spread down straight into her crotch.
“Five to closing, Wednesday through Saturday.”
Roxie couldn’t believe he’d agreed. They both knew that the offer was about nine hundred percent more than he was required to pay. But she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“What time’s closing?”
“Two am. You get an hour for dinner and fifteen minute break every two hours. We’ll provide one meal per shift and all the water and soft drinks you can hold, but no alcohol unless you pay—half price for employees.”
She considered it for a moment. With that pay and if the repairs on the car weren’t too much, she’d be bidding farewell to Cotton Creek inside a month.
“Done. When do I start?”
�
�Tonight’s as good as any.
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Beckett.”
“Cade.”
“Not as long as I work for you.”
The message was all too clear. Hands off. Cade felt a grin rising on his face. He loved a challenge and Roxie Ellis just might prove to be a very stimulating one. “Have it your way. I’ll expect you by five. That should give you time to get settled and changed.”
“Into what?”
“Do you have any cut-off jeans?”
“I have a pair I can cut.”
“That’ll do. I’ll have a Honky Tonk Angels T-shirt sent over to the boarding house for you.”
She stood and offered her hand. “Thanks. I’ll see you at five.”
Cade rose and took it. “Don’t disappoint me, Roxie.”
She met his eyes with a sassy expression that had heat starting to simmer in his belly. “Disappointment isn’t in my vocabulary, Mr. Beckett.”
With that, she pulled her hand from his, turned and left without a backward glance. Cade reclaimed his seat, staring thoughtfully at the door.
Hannah and Cody would be mad enough to spit nails if they found out what he’d done, unless he paid Roxie out of his own pocket, and he wasn’t quite sure how to manage that. He’d have to talk with the bookkeeper, Callie. Hannah said Callie was expected back from a trip during the next couple of days. He’d get with her and figure it out.
Cade dismissed thoughts of how to handle Roxie’s pay and focused more on how Roxie herself. He should call his contact in Vegas and get the scoop on Roxie Ellis. There was more to her story than just a woman who’d thrown in the towel on a whim and high-tailed it out of Sin City. And he was going to find out what it was.
Chapter Three
Roxie had just closed the front door and turned to head for her room when her landlady, Nellie Mae Baker walked in from the kitchen.
“I thought I heard the door,” Nellie Mae said.
“Oh, yes. Mr. Beckett had someone bring this shirt to me for tonight.”
“Mr. Beckett? You mean Stella’s nephew Cade Beckett? The one they have working for them over to the Honky Tonk?”
Roxie didn’t have a clue who Stella was and who Beckett was related to, but it didn’t matter because Mrs. Baker didn’t give her a chance to respond. “You going to be working over there?”