All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  The two women looked back and forth from Charlie to each other.

  “Y’all can have him.” Before her knees turned the consistency of Mrs. Martinez’s homemade salsa, Charlie sashayed to the end of the porch, swishing her lacy, red skirt with extra malice. She took the steps on shaky legs, only letting go of the pristine white railing when the driver of the town car took her hand and helped her into the back seat.

  “Are we waiting on the gentleman?” He paused before closing the back door.

  “No. Can you take me to the airport? LaGuardia?”

  The driver nodded and secured the door, putting a solid barrier between her and the noise from the party, the smell of the sea, and the possibility of a future with Beck. As the car pulled away from the circle drive, she glanced back to see him rushing down the steps.

  He belonged here. This was his world, not hers. For a brief moment, she’d let herself get swept away in the possibility that he might stay in Holiday. How stupid she’d been to think he’d settle down with her.

  For years, her daddy had said, “You can take the cowboy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the cowboy” or something to that effect. Why should Beck be any different? New York, these people, they were his crowd. He’d made that perfectly clear by choosing to follow in his dad’s footsteps. He was turning his back on her, on Holiday, and on the Rose. And just when she thought Sully’s words had finally reached him.

  She’d never fit in here, and he’d never fit in at home. They went together about as well as caviar and collard greens.

  She peeled the eyelashes off, letting them fall to the floor. Her lipstick came off on a tissue that she’d shoved into her bag. He’d gussied her up, trying to get her to fit in. But she didn’t belong in his world. If this weekend had taught her one thing, it was she didn’t want any part of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Hey, Boss. Welcome back.” Angelo tipped the brim of his baseball cap her way when Charlie entered the Rose on Monday morning. “Didn’t think you were coming in until later on tonight.”

  “Plans changed.” Truer words had never been spoken. After paying a change fee of more than what she made in a weekend of good tips to get herself on the last flight of the day from LaGuardia to Austin, Charlie had spent the three-plus-hour flight making plans. Or at least the last half of the flight. The first half she’d spent wiping her eyes with the two-ply paper napkins the flight attendant handed her and running through every exchange she and Beck had had over the weekend.

  He’d been right. Taking the trip to New York had been good for her. It reminded her that she was as tough as he’d been giving her credit for all along. But he’d also been wrong.

  There was no way they could figure out a way to make things work long term. He’d lied to her. How stupid did he think she’d have to be to overlook that little fact? They were from two completely different worlds. His was filled with doing whatever he had to do to get ahead. Hers had revolved around treating others like she wanted to be treated herself. Now she needed to channel the hardness Beck had brought out in her, strap on some spurs, and kick her own life into gear.

  “How was New York?” Angelo moved around the spotless kitchen like he owned it. Charlie vowed to do everything in her power to keep him there. Him and everyone else who depended on her and the Rose for their job, their way of life, their family.

  “Bigger than I thought.” She didn’t add that it was smaller than she’d expected, too. Smaller in that she’d been made to feel about three inches tall at that picnic.

  Angelo nodded. “Did you go to the top of the Empire State Building?”

  “Yeah.” Her stomach flipped at the memory of Beck wrapping her in his arms, pulling her against his solid chest, and pointing out all the landmarks from the observation deck. She shoved it down. “Everything go okay here this weekend?”

  “Yeah. But we got a couple odd visitors this morning.”

  “What kind of visitors?” Probably a few more tourists wanting a picture with Baby Back.

  “Shep’s talking to them up front. Wanted to take some measurements and stuff.”

  Charlie didn’t wait for him to finish. She stomped into the main dining room, where Shep sat at a table with two men in dark suits and a good ol’ boy in a pair of jeans and some boots. Looked more like a Secret Service detail than appraisers.

  “What’s going on here?” She stopped at the edge of the table.

  Shep gestured toward the man in jeans. “Hi, Charlie. This here’s Mr. Akers. He’s over from Austin to take some measurements and photos.”

  “Like hell he is. What’s going on?” Charlie’s chest thudded like someone was doing a line dance on it.

  “Ms. Walker, I’m an appraiser from Austin. Mr. Holiday made arrangements for me to handle the property here in his absence. He’s got a need for an appraisal and—”

  “We’ll see about that.” Her hand shook as she snagged the half-full coffee cups off the table from in front of them. “Gentlemen, I suggest you leave the premises.”

  “Ms. Walker—”

  Charlie set her jaw and slowly turned to face him. “If you’re not off my property in the next thirty seconds, I’m calling the sheriff’s office. My brother works there and will be more than happy to escort you out of town.”

  “You can’t keep us away forever. Mr. Holiday’s given us permission to do what we need to do here.”

  “Then I suggest you get him to come on down and give you a formal tour. In the meantime, get the hell off my land.”

  “We’ll be back.”

  “Nineteen, eighteen…”

  Akers shook his head and stood. “Come on, gentlemen.” The two brutes in dark suits pushed back from the table and followed him out.

  “Nice job, Boss.” Shep put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  Her whole body shook like she’d been electrocuted by a live wire. Her thoughts scrambled. Her tongue took up too much room in her mouth for her to speak. Her heart sputtered, stuttered, and skipped inside her rib cage.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine.” At least she would be once she made it through a confrontation with Beck. He had no right to sell out her future or the memory of Sully’s pride and joy—not even to his father. She couldn’t wait to set him straight and send him scurrying back to New York with his fancy loafers and monstrous coffee machine, preferably with one or both of those items shoved up his fine, tight ass.

  * * *

  Beck pressed the End button on his cell phone. Charlie couldn’t avoid him forever. She’d gotten spooked, he’d give her that. Inviting her to the picnic had been a bad idea. After she’d taken off in the town car, he’d caught Bella and Naomi whispering about her and grilled them both on what had caused Charlie to run off like that. Bella had apologized for not knowing how sensitive Charlie would be and clammed up when he pressed for more. In the end, whatever they’d said to her didn’t matter. What mattered was that she’d left just when she’d finally started to let loose and have a little fun.

  So he’d returned to Holiday to try to talk some sense into her. Sitting in the parking lot, he gazed at the front porch of the Rose through the dusty windshield. Live music drifted out the open windows. Someone must have been playing an afternoon set today. That was one thing he loved about the honky-tonk—he never knew what to expect from one day to the next. If someone walked through the front door with a guitar case, Charlie would usually talk them into playing a set or two.

  Charlie.

  He’d had two days to try to come up with what he wanted to say to her. Yet, moments away from seeing her again, he still had nothing. Hoping some divine intervention would fill the void in his brain with the right words, he made his way around the building and onto the porch. Each thump of his boots on the wood steps felt like walking to a set of gallows instead of confronting the woman he’d
hoped to build some sort of future with.

  He pushed through the screen door and into the front room. The once-foreign, now-familiar smell of mesquite chips from the barbecue pit greeted him. Music played through the speakers, glasses clanked together, and the comforting hustle and bustle of the Rose on a weekday afternoon soothed his nerves.

  “Hey, Beck.” Shep nodded at him from behind the bar.

  “Hi. You seen Charlie around?” he asked.

  Shep tilted his head toward the office. “Back that way. Be careful though.”

  “How mad is she?”

  “Dude, she’s spoutin’ off four-letter words I’ve never even heard.”

  Beck’s stomach twisted, wringing itself out like the bar rag Shep held in his hand. “That bad, huh?”

  “Who’s your next of kin? If she finishes you off, can I have your coffeepot?”

  “You bet.” He’d love to shoot the bull with Shep, maybe even grab a cold one from the bar, but avoiding the inevitable wouldn’t do any good. Time for him to take responsibility for his screwup and figure out if there was a chance to salvage anything with Charlie.

  He tapped on the door of the office, half hoping she’d left for the day.

  “Come on in.” Her voice ricocheted around his internal organs, sliced through his gut, and thudded like a cannonball into his chest.

  “Hey.” He pushed the door open a bit at a time and stepped into the room.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She didn’t smile. In fact, the look she gave him couldn’t have been more chilling if she’d been shooting icicles out of her eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you around here anytime soon.”

  He stopped at the edge of the desk. A few stacks of cash sat in front of her. She’d been counting up the till. “You left me on the steps. What happened, Charlie? You won’t take my calls or answer my texts.”

  “It’s over, Beck. I should have known better in the first place.”

  “Over? We were having such a good time.” He put his palms on the desk and leaned her way, trying to get her to meet his gaze.

  She let out a sharp laugh. “A good time? I suppose that’s all this was to you—a fun little fling.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Fair?” She jumped out of her chair and slapped her palms on the desk. “You want to talk to me about fair? Try working your ass off for eight years, pouring your heart and soul into something, and then having it ripped away from you on the whim of a self-serving jackass who’s not even in it for the right reasons.”

  Stunned, he backed away from the desk and leaned against a chair. Is that what she thought of him? “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re selling us out so you can get your big chance to prove yourself to your dad, aren’t you? He said something that night at dinner. While you went to get the car. Then Bella confirmed it. Took me a little while to put it all together, you know, being a hick without a college degree and all.”

  “Charlie, it’s not what you think.” He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away before they touched. “Yes, I agreed to pass the Rose on to my dad. But he said he wasn’t going to change things. It’ll stay the same, you’ll see.”

  Her eyes swelled with unshed tears. “No, it won’t. He doesn’t get it. Never has. Sully knew it. The Rose needs you. And Holiday needs the Rose. It’s the only thing that draws people in. Gives them a place to gather, to celebrate, commiserate, and escape the drudgery of the daily routine around here.”

  Beck shook his head. “I never said I wanted to save a whole town. I said I’d stick it out until the three months were up. I’m doing what I think is best. My dad will take over, and things will stay the same. Sully should have left it to him in the first place. It’s his birthright, and I’m trying to do the right thing. You’ll keep your job. The Rose will go on just like always.”

  She buried her face in her hands and took in a ragged breath. “You really believe him, don’t you?”

  “He promised.” Beck even had the paperwork to prove it. His dad had sent back the revised agreement stating that he wouldn’t make changes to the management of the Rose. All Beck had to do was sign on the line and make the deal official.

  “I can’t believe you trust him. Sully knew better. He wanted the Rose to go to you. If he’d wanted your dad to get his grubby hands on it, he would have left it to him. Everyone around here can see what kind of a man your father is. Why are you so blind when it comes to him?”

  “Charlie…” He wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how.

  “I thought maybe you’d want to stay for another reason. I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d want to stay for us. For me.”

  And there it was. She’d tossed it out there, and he’d have to acknowledge it. He couldn’t avoid or ignore the Texas-longhorn-sized truth in the room anymore.

  “Oh, Charlie.” He rounded the desk and gathered her in his arms. Every part of him wanted to tell her she was being ridiculous. Of course he’d stay. He’d never met anyone like her before, and he’d be a freaking dumb-ass to even consider walking away.

  Her body stiffened. “Don’t ‘Oh, Charlie’ me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m done. I didn’t want to do this to you. I was hoping we’d be able to make plans together. Build a future right here. But we don’t belong together. You’ve made it clear you won’t.”

  “I can’t.”

  “No, Beck. ‘Can’t’ implies there’s something stopping you. It’s not that you can’t stay in Holiday. You won’t.”

  “I’ve got a life in New York, but I still want to see each other.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  She maneuvered out of his embrace and pushed her palms against his chest. “I mean, I’ve spent the past eight years waiting for someone like you. Someone to turn my world upside down, inside out, and topsy-turvy. And now that I’ve found you, I can’t imagine losing any of that. I’ve had a taste of having it all. And I loved it. So weekends aren’t going to cut it for me. I want all of you.”

  “Relationships are a compromise. Fifty-fifty. Give-and-take.”

  She shook her head. “Relationships are one hundred-one hundred. That’s how my folks have stayed together so long. Not by settling for half-ass holidays and seeing each other once a month.”

  “That’s different though. Obviously we’re not your parents. They’re—”

  “I’d rather be my parents than yours. Didn’t you say your dad traveled all the time when you were a kid? I bet they barely spent any time together. No wonder your dad’s on his fifth wife.”

  “Fourth.”

  “Oh, excuse me. Somehow I can’t keep them all straight.”

  Truth was, neither could he. He wanted what Charlie wanted. He just wanted what he wanted, too. And the way he saw things, it would be impossible to get both. “So you want to just throw it all away?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re the one who’s throwing things away.”

  “How? I’m the one who wants to try to work things out. Explain to me how I’m the quitter here?”

  “Giving the Rambling Rose to your dad is like throwing it away. I don’t know what he promised you, but I’m not going to stick around to see Sully’s pride and joy ruined.”

  A vein at his temple began to twitch. He was going to have one hell of a headache later; he could feel it coming on. “Hey, if you don’t want to help me anymore, then don’t.”

  “Fine. I quit.” The sparks flying from her eyes could have set the place on fire.

  She couldn’t mean it. Charlie was the Rambling Rose. But she’d pushed him too far to back down now. “When’s your last day?” With only a few weeks left on his “sentence,” he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle seeing her around.

  “Figured I’d give you two weeks. I mean, I know I do
n’t have corporate”—she made air quotes around “corporate” like it was a curse word—“experience, but I hear that’s standard.”

  “Don’t worry about the notice. I can take it from here.”

  “Suit yourself.” She stood frozen in place for a moment. Long enough for his throat to constrict, for his lungs to seize, for his heart to shrink to the size of a golf ball. Then, leveling him with a final look, one that bottled up all her hurt and disappointment and pain, she was gone.

  Beck staggered to the chair and slumped into it. He should be grateful. She’d handed him an easy way out. But instead of relief, he felt broken. Like pieces of him were lying all over the ancient, well-worn floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Charlie?” Darby’s voice came through the door, muffled but loud enough to disrupt the daytime talk show playing on TV. “Oh, Charlie. I know you’re in there. I’m not going away. Open up.”

  Charlie pulled a pillow over her head, trying to drown out her friend’s cheerful threat. Why wouldn’t she leave her alone? By the time she’d gotten home from the Rose last night, Darby had already heard about her falling-out with Beck and filled her phone with texts. Unable to stomach the humiliation of dealing with her then, Charlie had downed a tad too much cheap whiskey and passed out on the couch.

  Unfortunately her situation appeared just as bleak during the bright light of day. And now, in addition to being so pissed at Beck she couldn’t think, breathe, or see straight, she’d also given herself one heck of a hangover. She should get up and find some ibuprofen. But that would require movement. And movement was still a few hours away.

  The knocking stopped. Good. Darby never could wait her out. Satisfied she’d earned a couple more hours of peace, Charlie snuggled the pillow against her chest and tried to mute the chainsaw buzzing through her head by wishing it away.

  “There you are.” Darby exploded through the patio door, a triumphant look on her face, a large takeout cup of coffee in her hand.