by Scott, D. D.
Buying time like his father used to do before throwing his opinion into the ring, Zayne rubbed one hand across his chin. But his father, the lucky s.o.b., had only Zayne’s mom to deal with. The seasoned pro himself might have been perplexed having to smooth the ground between his wife and her new protégé. But Zayne had watched his father in these situations and was fairly confident he knew the tricks that would ease the tension.
He ignored Damian’s finger pantomiming his throat being slit. But took no comfort in Audrey’s ‘go-for-it-dumb ass’ expression. When Audrey then whisked Damian to the far side of the boutique, Zayne knew the crap was closing-in.
Pretending to work on installing another shelving system, instead of taking on the dueling queen bees, Zayne’s friends had abandoned him. He was alone and at a substantial disadvantage. Talk about being a delusional optimist.
Consolidating his confidence around the ball of insecurity lodged in his throat, Zayne rolled his angst aside then addressed his mother first. “You know, Mom, although you two are much more qualified to make this decision than I, I think Roxy’s right.”
Knowing if he stopped long enough to think about what he was doing too, he’d be trampled, he took time only to swallow. He had to keep trucking or get-off the road.
Without a valid reason to discontinue his effort to defend Roxy, Zayne pushed his point. He could probably get her in the driver’s seat with one final impetus. “I’m saying this, Mom, because we just ran into…oh, Roxy, what’s the name of that new singer?”
“Deena Mettles,” Roxy answered, rolling her neck on her shoulders.
“Yeah, that’s her,” Zayne said, placing his hands on Roxy’s shoulders. With gentle pressure, he tried to knead away her stress.
The feel of her body first tensing then relaxing under his hands, fed his desire to touch her in more private places. He fought his libido. Despite the pressing need swelling below his belt, he tried to stay focused on Raeve.
“Mom, the woman was crazy about Roxy’s buckle this morning,” Zayne said, forcing the stamina from his groin to his voice. Not that thinking about Roxy’s buckles and what they held underneath diminished his hardest obstacle.
“This morning? Where did you run into her?” Kat asked, tucking the pencil she’d once been pointing at Roxy now safely behind her ear. “She liked our buckle? That’s fantastic. This could be terrific for sales.”
“Slow down, Mom. You’re not supposed to be getting excited.” Zayne had enough restless energy busting his gut for both of them. He could handle the strain. Well, he was supposed to be able to. But his mom couldn’t. “We ended up sitting next to Deena at The Pancake Pantry. And yes, she loved Roxy’s buckle.”
Before Zayne could continue his father’s diplomacy and restate that the buckles should be Raeve’s center of attention, Roxy wiggled out from under his impromptu massage and took the floor in her own defense. “It’s true. Deena oohed and ahhed, mentioning something about her stylist seeing the rest of the collection for a video shoot. Proof that the buckles are our key.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Kat grabbed the blueprint off the work table, crumbled it between her hands then tossed it into a large feed bucket serving as their trashcan.
“Damian,” she yelled, competing with drill bits chewing through drywall, “do as Roxy says and make it snappy. We’re about to have high profile customers to impress.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Ma’ams. You know what I mean.” Damian pulled his safety glasses off the top of his head and back into place then re-revved his drill.
Roxy and Kat walked arm-in-arm toward the center of the boutique, motioning for Audrey to follow them, seeming to forget Zayne. With relief washing over him, filling his once knotted stomach with a weightless joy, Zayne could care less that they’d left him unattended.
So much for his mother having to summons the support of her high-paying friends. Roxy may have just sealed Raeve’s fate all by herself. Her talent speaking on its own merit. Well, her skill along with Jack Baudlin’s choice of breakfast partners, an acknowledgement making Zayne’s skin crawl.
As much as Zayne didn’t want to have anything to do with Jack or Harry Baudlin, if Deena Mettles didn’t make it into the store by the end of the week, Zayne would go see Jack, somehow working it into their conversation to get the starlet to Raeve. Not as a favor. Zayne would never be indebted to those assholes. But he’d think of some subtle way to get one of those buckles into the hands of Deena’s stylist. And if that meant dealing with Jack Baudlin…so be it.
If it had been Zayne’s mom in Roxy’s situation, that’s what his dad would have done. Once making digs at his wife for going into the saloon business, Zayne’s dad soon sang a different tune. His wife had been more successful slinging beers than he’d ever been picking tomatoes. Even though the farm had turned a nice profit, the Neon Cowboy was the McDonald’s big-time cash crop.
Zayne’s dad had become his wife’s biggest fan. And it wasn’t for the money. He put his resources into the saloon because that’s where Kat thrived. He fed her passion like she’d nurtured his love of the farm.
His dad’s unwavering support in that regard twisted Zayne’s respect for the man in a positive direction. But it failed to make up for his inadequacies as a father. How could his dad have finally gotten it so right with his mom and still so wrong with his son? Zayne’s mind squeezed out the pain his heart pumped strong.
With the girls busy directing Damian, Zayne checked his watch. Noon. A gale-force panic blew straight- line winds through his gut, robbing him of all oxygen.
Since the weather was perfect, Cody wanted the vines in before the end of the week. Zayne hadn’t done a damn thing in the fields today. He’d wasted half of one day out of their five-day window. Cody would be pissed but no more than Zayne was already cursing himself.
Not wanting to interrupt the ladies now that they were working together, Zayne turned, starting for the boutique’s entrance.
Walking past Roxy, he got a heady blast of her blasphemous body lotion, whipping-up additional temptation to keep him out of the fields. That or his imagination was once again messing with him. Sometimes he smelled cherries and almonds when Roxy wasn’t even in a room. He couldn’t get the girl out of his head or his nose.
Before he reached the landing off-setting Raeve from the rest of the supply store, someone pulled him backwards by the waist of his jeans.
“Where you goin’ so fast, Cowboy?”
Hearing Roxy’s low, sexy voice, and breathing in another shot of her seductive scent, Zayne knew it wasn’t his imagination. He stayed facing away from her, trying to compose his wants into measured slivers of control.
“I owe you for handling your mom,” she said, her sultry smooth tone wearing down Zayne’s moral fortitude.
“What I have in mind as gratitude wouldn’t be appropriate in public,” Zayne said, fighting the immediate urges rushing through him, afraid he’d lose control over the waves of desire crashing his senses.
“You sure about that?”
Roxy tugged on his belt loops, until he turned and looked into her suggestive eyes then anchored her body against his.
In one swift, rhythmic movement that registered close to double digits on the seismic scale, his stomach and groin flexed.
“ I’m fairly certain we’d be arrested for public indecency,” Zayne said, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep from sweeping her out of the store and straight home into his bed. “See you at the saloon around 4:30.”
Roxy nodded her head in agreement. A mischievous twinkle replaced the sultry waves in her eyes.
Zayne silently vowed to make the waves return.
He readjusted his hat — because he couldn’t think of anything else to do — then ground his boots into the sawdust clumped together in the wake of Damian’s drill. “All righty then. I should be going. I’ve got to check with Cody on a few things at the farm before I teach you the ropes at the saloon.”
“I’m looking forw
ard to it,” Roxy said, her voice catching as she looked to the floor. Suddenly she preferred drawing shapes in the sawdust with the toe of her boot instead of looking at him. “Maybe we’ll have time to work-in a dance.”
“That would be nice.” Damn if Zayne didn’t feel heat rising up his neck, probably because he’d never taken off his Carhartt. Who was he kidding? He should stop making lame ass excuses. He couldn’t think about this woman without overheating, let alone stand next to her.
Hmmm. Seeing her fidget with her shirt collar was interesting, Zayne thought. After suggesting they take a spin across the floor, she almost looked a little nervous. Roxy Vaughn. Shy. Now there was a twist. What an enigma. She was a puzzle Zayne was having a hard time piecing together. But he was growing more intrigued by each piece that didn’t fit.
Roxy reached up on her toes, almost bumping her nose against his. “I knew there was another reason I prefer heels.”
She closed her mouth around his and melted into him. Instead of satisfying him, though, her tender and suggestive kiss made him want more. Much more. His muscles ached to move on top of her. He’d imagined a million times how her fluid curves would align with his body.
“Okay, lovebirds. Break it up,” Audrey said, tapping Roxy’s shoulder.
Zayne could feel Audrey’s playfully persistence taps too. His body’s closeness to Roxy’s conducted the same sensations between them, making him feel what she experienced. Too bad he wanted closer still and couldn’t go there right now.
“Roxy, I need your opinion over here. And Zayne, Cody’s probably at the farm cussing you,” Audrey said.
When Zayne’s eyes left Roxy’s, and the air once again surfaced between them, he found his mother watching them. Her face was stoic and proud albeit a bit sad, the same way she looked at him when he was a boy and he’d crossed a major milestone or achievement. Appearing both thrilled for his success while trying hard to let him go. Her eyes said ‘I’m proud and happy for you but already missing you like crazy.’
“Leave your boots on tonight, Princess,” Zayne said as he backed away from Roxy, shining an internal spotlight on a chance at building a future with her. “I’ve got a new song we’re going to try.”
Chapter Eighteen
Roxy had decided from the get-go the best way she could help Zayne and Kat was by staying out of The Neon Cowboy’s kitchen. Sitting on a stool, watching Jules work her magic on the saloon’s dinner fare, confirmed Roxy had made the right call. Her head rang to the clang of pots and pans. Her nerves belonged on the chopping block with the carrots.
“Hand me that colander, would you?” Jules asked, never taking her eyes off the pickles she was slicing with an obscenely large knife.
Roxy searched the stainless steel countertops.
“That would be the large bowl with the holes in the bottom,” Jules said then giggled. “How do you live on your own and manage to eat?”
“Ever heard of a microwave?” Roxy handed Jules the colander and helped herself to a pickle slice.
“I thought you didn’t like pickles.” Jules eyed Roxy with suspicion.
“They’re growing on me.” Roxy crunched on the slice, proud she didn’t quiver when the juice attacked her tongue. “So what’s on the menu?”
“You worry about the gift corral and chat-up the customers. Cody and I will take care of the food,” Jules said as she rinsed the bowl of pickles under the faucet.
“I know where I’m needed. Trust me. I was simply hoping Kat’s barbecued pulled pork was the special. That stuff’s fantastic.” Even by working at the saloon for the next three months, Roxy wouldn’t get tired of the dish’s tangy, sweet zip. She’d enjoy several meals and reheated leftovers on that entrée.
“You’re right. Cody let me sample the sauce last night. It is pretty tasty.” Jules licked her lips and kissed her fingers with the dramatic flare of the French-schooled chef she was. “Bellissimo.”
Okay. So maybe she was Italian-schooled. Whatever. Regardless of which international cuisine she specialized in, Jules rocked it in the kitchen.
Roxy chomped on another bite of pickle, her curiosity heating up like the saloon’s ovens. “What do you mean last night?”
“Cody had me stop by his parent’s Meat N’ Three for dinner. The sauce Kat uses is actually their recipe.”
Roxy couldn’t miss the pride covering Jules’ face or the crimson blush flooding her cheeks. Evidently, she didn’t have to worry about Jules and Cody getting along in the kitchen. Jules’ upbeat demeanor, glowing skin and he-took-me-home-to-meet-the-parents boast meant more than food was cooking.
“What’s a Meat N’ Three?” Roxy asked.
“You don’t know about places like The White Trash Café? The Loveless Café? Or Cody’s parent’s Lunch Box Cafe?” Jules shook her head in frustration then tucked a piece of loose hair underneath her Chanel skullcap. “I swear, Roxy, you’re the one who’s lived here half the year. Don’t you go anywhere besides this joint?”
“I told you I eat in. I can’t afford to dine out without my parent’s allowance,” Roxy said attempting to push back the anxiety of her financial reality with humor.
Not that Roxy minded eating-in. The posh spots she used to frequent in Manhattan seemed like a lifetime ago and way too pretentious for her tastes now. But she wouldn’t worry Jules any further by elaborating on the sour details that could mean her days in Nashville were numbered.
“So take pity on me and tell me about a Meat N’ Three,” Roxy said.
Jules poured more oil into a huge deep fryer and turned up the heat. “They’re these terrific dive diners where you get one or two meat choices and three side dishes for like $6.95. Can you believe that? A whole meal for $6.95.”
“I can even afford that. I’ll have to ask Zayne to take me.” The thought came out way too fast, and Jules was sure to pick up on Roxy’s subconscious slip.
“If you’d rather have Zayne take you than Audrey and I, fine. I wouldn’t choose us over him either.” Jules dumped the pickles into the fryer, jumping back to avoid the hissing drops of oil escaping the boiling hell.
“Choose who over you?” Cody barreled through the swing door separating the service and prep area from the back of the kitchen. “Who’d be that dumb? Did I just say that out loud?”
He maneuvered a large pot of barbecue sauce off the countertop next to Jules then around the work tables to the furthest of four commercial stoves along the back wall.
“You sure did. But don’t apologize, or I’ll take back the brownie point you earned.” Jules followed Cody and his sauce pot, sticking her finger in the pot for a taste. “Mmmm Mmmm. Yowzies that’s good. I’ve got to have your dad show me his secret.”
“Fat chance, Sweetie. I don’t even know the recipe.” Cody set the pot on the stove, covered it with a lid and cranked-on one of the dials. Taking a towel out of his back pocket, he wiped off a dab of sauce that had splashed onto his hands.
Seeing Jules bent over taking bread out of an oven, Cody studied her backside, a crooked smile escaping his lips. Moving his mouth in a silent whistle, he turned his attention to Roxy. “How’s everything look in the dining room? We have to have it perfect. Or when Zayne gets here, he’ll freak then never stay at the farm long enough to win that damn contest.”
“Okay. I think,” Roxy said. “I checked every place-setting myself on both the main floor as well as the balcony high-top tables.”
She picked up the clipboard holding the list Kat had made for her. Several items still needed to be completed before the dinner crowd arrived. Roxy’s nerves wiggled like Jell-o unaccustomed to a new mold.
“I’ll have the gift shop open in a few minutes. The bartenders should be checking stock and preparing garnishments,” she said, checking off the items.
Excitement surged through her with each completed task. She was close to opening the saloon’s main doors.
“You’re on it, Chick.” Cody squeezed her shoulder on his way past with a stack of steaming
dinner plates straight from the dishwasher.
After filling the appropriate slots in the serving line with the clean plates, he dabbed at the moisture on his face with the barbecue-stained towel, leaving a red, gooey smear across his cheek.
“Zayne may not tell you, but I know it means a great deal to have all of us working the saloon. I don’t know what he’s gonna do if he can’t find a way to win that contest. And with Kat’s health, he’s not sure where he needs to be when.”
Cody fished through a rolling cart of cooking utensils, snagging a wooden spoon.
“You’re doing right by him, Rox. Don’t let him convince you otherwise,” he said, stirring the sauce pot.
Jules wiped Cody’s cheek then tossed the soiled towel into a nearby hamper. “Why wouldn’t Zayne appreciate Roxy’s efforts? She’s busting her ass and ours to help him. He should be kissing hers.”
“Zayne’s like his dad that way. And his mom too, for that matter. They’re not comfortable with people helping them.” Cody handed Jules the next stack of dishes from the dishwasher. “Now, me, on the other hand, I’m fine with the concept.”
“Lucky me,” Jules said with feigned sweetness easily understood for the eat-shit manner she’d intended.
Along with the sauce Cody continued stirring, Roxy’s stomach pitched and rolled. She knew all about not wanting help. But she’d learned from the McDonalds themselves that it was okay and necessary to accept it on occasion.
“Speaking of Zayne,” Cody nodded his head toward the door closing-off the saloon from the kitchen. “I hear music coming through the speakers. He’s here.”
Roxy’s heart jumped ahead a few quick beats then slowed to a waltz. Knowing Zayne shared the same space made the room spin. Her appetite, moments before, bordering on ravenous, was now nil. The feelings Zayne stirred in her were both maddening and exciting in the same gut-wrenching twists.