All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  But why would Dwight be relieved at the delay? Beck peered in through the window. The keys sprawled on the driver’s side floor mat.

  “That sucks, huh?” Dwight shook his head. “Probably be a couple hours before someone can run up here with the spare set.”

  “Did you just toss those in the cab?” He could have sworn they weren’t there when he got out of the truck.

  Dwight’s eyebrows knit together. “What kind of crazy talk is that? Wanna grab something to eat at the diner?” He gestured toward the café attached to the truck stop.

  What was he playing at? Was he trying to keep him away from Charlie? “You go ahead. I’m going to see if I can get a locksmith or something.”

  “Want me to order you a bite?” Dwight licked his lips and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “Might be a while.”

  “Sure. You pick, okay?”

  “You got it.” Smiling, Dwight turned toward the café.

  With the Jackass out of the way, Beck surveyed the parking lot. In the sea of semis, pickups, and work trucks, there had to be someone who could jimmy the lock on an old truck. A giant custom RV rolled past, revealing the answer to his prayers—a late-model cargo van with J&B’s Locksmith Service on the side. Beck crossed his fingers and started across the parking lot.

  Chapter Thirty

  Charlie checked her watch. Beck’s flight had been scheduled to land more than an hour ago, and she hadn’t heard a word from Dwight. She should have known better than to send a proxy.

  “Hear anything?” Darby tucked a pink-tissue-paper rose into the chicken-wire framework of their parade float.

  “No. Do you think I should call him?”

  “Not unless you want to end up on the phone with Beck.”

  “No. I can’t do it over the phone. I need to see him in person.” She sighed. She’d have to wait it out. With any luck, Dwight would text soon and let her know when they’d be there. “You almost done with that side?”

  She and Darby had spent the past three days working on the float. Technically, she’d quit on Beck, which meant she shouldn’t need to help with the Founder’s Day festivities. But she figured by the time the parade was over, Beck would either have agreed to let her buy in to the honky-tonk or she and Darby would implement plan B and she’d own it outright. Either way, she felt an obligation. With the final touches complete, all they’d need to do tomorrow was show up and climb aboard. It was kind of nice being able to just focus on the float this year. In years past, Charlie had pulled all-nighters trying to manage the Rose and still do justice to the long-standing tradition of having the biggest float in the Founder’s Day parade.

  “Give me ten more minutes.” Darby stood and stretched. “What else do you have to do tonight?”

  “Finish the decorations for the Founder’s Day Fling. That’s it. I’ll probably even get to bed before midnight. That will be a first on the night before the parade.” She tried to keep her voice light for Darby’s sake. There was no way she’d be able to turn in before she had a chance to chat with Beck. He might have screwed her over professionally, but unlike him and the crowd he hung with, she had a heart and was willing to work toward some sort of compromise. Even though she was madder than a rattlesnake with its tail tied in a knot, some tiny, buried part of her still cared about him.

  Once Dwight delivered him, she’d try to talk him out of transferring the title to his dad by offering to buy into the Rose herself. Granted, she didn’t have that kind of money set aside, but she had good credit and Mr. Hill would vouch for her at the bank. She’d manage the Rose and Beck could go back to New York and be his daddy’s yes-man. Her promise to Sully would be honored by keeping the Rose in the Holiday family, and Beck would get his park. But if he didn’t agree, would she really be able to keep him away until the parade ended?

  “You bringing anyone to the fling tomorrow night?” Darby gave her a side-eye glance. She knew better than anyone how much Beck had come to mean to Charlie.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you need to call that nice cowboy you met on the plane on the way to New York.”

  “Never shoulda told you about that.” Charlie had mentioned it once. But with Darby, once was all it took. “I told you, I’m done with men.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “See about what?” Cash came up behind them.

  “Nothing. Darby was saying she thinks our float will win first place again this year.” Charlie gave her friend a pointed look.

  “No, I wasn’t. I was telling your baby sis that she ought to invite someone to the fling tomorrow night.” The smug grin on Darby’s face smacked of self-righteousness.

  Cash slung an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “I think that’s a great idea. You need to get out there more.”

  Charlie shook her head and shrugged away from him. “Says the man who hasn’t been on a date in five years.”

  “Hey, we’re not talking about me.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Can y’all lock up? I’m heading out.”

  “Sure. Thanks again for letting us build the float here.” Charlie hugged her brother. Of all of her siblings, he was the one she worried about the most. He had such a good heart. He adored his daughter, but since Kenzie’s mom had passed, Charlie wished he’d find someone new to share his life with.

  “Good luck tomorrow. You think Beck’s going to show? The whole town’s been taking bets on whether he’ll be there for the parade.”

  Darby sucked in a big breath, and Charlie gave her a silencing glare. “Don’t know. Haven’t talked to the jerk in more than two weeks.”

  “I sure hope he shows. We’ve got some unsettled business to attend to.” Cash looked from one of them to the other.

  “You’re all talk.” Charlie shook her head. “Beck told me about your threat. You go anywhere near him, and I’ll tell Mama about that time you and Lori Lynne sneaked out and—”

  “That’s enough of that.” He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else but closed it again.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Darby linked her arm through her brother-in-law’s and walked him to the door of the giant metal garage. “Have a good night, Cash.”

  “Yeah, bye, Cash. Give my niece a hug and a kiss. Tell her I saved her a spot on the float tomorrow.”

  “All right. Stay out of trouble, you two.” He shook his head one more time then disappeared through the doorway.

  Darby skipped across the concrete floor. “Think he suspects anything?”

  “How could he suspect something? We haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Charlie’s phone pinged. An incoming text. She glanced down. It was from Dwight.

  “Dwight says Beck’s connection in Philadelphia was delayed and he might not even get in until tomorrow morning.” Charlie tilted her phone toward Darby to show her the text.

  Darby squeezed her arm. “Well, crap. What does that do to your plan? Have you really thought this thing through? I know you think he’s going to go for it, but what if he doesn’t? What happens to the Rose then?”

  Charlie’s lungs deflated at the sight of the text. Short, shallow breaths did nothing to battle the feeling of not being able to breathe. “Maybe I should call him and spill my guts over the phone. If he says no, then we can have Dwight execute plan B.”

  “I really like plan B. Can’t we skip ahead to that?”

  “I want to give him a chance to make things right on his own first. Deep down, he’s not the puppet his dad makes him out to be. If I can talk to him, I know he’ll come around.” Or at least she hoped he would. Beck had changed during his time in Texas. Getting to learn about his grandfather had made a difference, she knew it. He was more like Sully than his calculating father. He had to be; otherwise she never would have fallen so hard so fast.
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br />   Darby whooped and spun around, pulling on Charlie’s arms, trying to get her to join in her happy dance. “Either way, the Rose will be safe!” Finally, apparently noticing Charlie’s lack of enthusiasm, Darby stopped. “What’s wrong? You’ve got to be thrilled about this, right?”

  “What if he gets here and I don’t have time to talk to him? Or what if he says no? Can I really go through with this? Keeping him off the float will be like stealing. That would make me no better than them, it—”

  “You’re not stealing. You’re saving the Rose. You’re saving Holiday.” Placing her hands on either side of Charlie’s face, Darby went nose to nose. “It’s not your fault his flight got screwed up, right? Maybe this is fate’s way of handing the Rose over.”

  Charlie groaned, letting the desperation seep out of her on a whiny exhale. “I don’t know. What would Sully want? I promised him I’d keep it in the family.”

  “Honey, you were more family to him than his own flesh and blood. It’s your call. You know I’ll back you up whatever you decide to do, but you’ve got to make this decision.” Darby held her gaze.

  Damn mind reader. She put her hands over Darby’s and pulled them away from her cheeks, giving them a squeeze. “Balls to the wall. The way I see it, I don’t have a choice. Not if I want to save the Rose.”

  “’Atta girl.” Darby grabbed her shoulders and almost strangled her with a hug around the neck. “Let’s wrap this up and get over to the Rose to finish things. We don’t need to bring anything, do we?”

  Charlie battled the burning apprehension rising in her chest. “Nope. I took everything over there yesterday.” She tossed the remaining float-making supplies into a cardboard box and snapped off the lights in the large metal outbuilding. This was a dumb idea. It was going to backfire, and Beck would sue her for kidnapping and obstructing a real estate transaction.

  Wait. Was that even a crime?

  Screw it. It sounded enough like a crime to make her stomach cramp.

  She’d pulled Darby and Dwight into her illicit activities, too. They’d all go down in a disappointing last-ditch effort of saving the Rose. Probably spend the rest of their lives under house arrest or worse.

  But the alternative was harder to accept. If Beck did show up on that float tomorrow, the Rose would be gone. Who knew what his dad would do with it? She’d heard rumors of someone snatching up some land around Holiday, but no one knew who was buying or what their plans were. Charlie owed it to her employees, the residents of Holiday, and, most of all, Sully to keep things the way they’d always been.

  “Let’s hit it.” She flipped the lock and pulled the door closed behind her. For better or for worse, it was too late to turn back now.

  * * *

  Even the way Dwight swallowed his tea had begun to annoy the heck out of Beck. It had taken forty-five minutes and a hundred bucks to get the keys out of the truck with no help from Dwight. By the time Beck took care of that snafu, he’d found Dwight lounging in a corner booth at the diner, two orders of chicken fried steak on the way.

  “Can we get this to go?” Beck fidgeted with a packet of sugar, eager to hit the road again. Every minute he wasted was one more he could have been hurtling closer to Charlie.

  “How am I gonna eat chicken fried steak in the truck?”

  “I’ll drive. You can eat on the way.” Why was Dwight dragging his feet so much? It almost seemed like he was stalling on purpose. The idea took root in his head like one of those wood ticks he’d watched Charlie remove from behind Baby Back’s ear. Just burrowed in and wouldn’t let go.

  “It’ll be out in a quick sec. I’m starving. Charlie’s had me runnin’ errands all over town today, and I didn’t get my lunch. Ten minutes, then we’ll get going, okay?”

  “Ten minutes. If you’re not ready to go after that, I’ll leave your ass here and you can find your own way back.”

  Dwight nodded and took another sip of his tall iced tea.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” May as well hit the bathroom while he waited for his dinner. It didn’t look like Dwight would budge until he got his heart attack on a plate. As much as he wanted to get to Holiday, the anticipation of a chicken fried steak with homemade country gravy and a biscuit or two on the side sent his stomach into giddy somersaults.

  He’d tried to find some greasy spoon in the city that reminded him of the down-home cooking he’d had in Holiday. With a restaurant every couple of feet, it hadn’t seemed like such a hopeless cause. But no matter where he went, the food didn’t come close to the kind of mouthwatering, butter-laden, calorie-ridden deliciousness he’d been served at the Walker family dinners.

  When he returned to the table, their food had arrived—two giant platters overflowing with steaks almost the size of a manhole cover. Beck’s gut grumbled as the appetizing scent of fresh buttermilk biscuits hit his nose.

  “Dig in.” Dwight spoke around the huge bite of steak and mashed potatoes he’d shoved in his mouth.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He tucked into his dinner like a man who hadn’t eaten in weeks as opposed to a few hours ago. Experience had taught him he’d regret it later, but he couldn’t help himself. Good home-style cooking reminded him of Charlie. And thinking of Charlie smoothed the anxious jitters away. How would she react to his offer? They’d been through a lot this summer, but hopefully she’d come to the same conclusion he had. That they belonged together.

  Sure, they’d gotten off to a rocky start. And his time in Holiday was filled with more ups and downs than that roller coaster he’d ridden on Coney Island as a kid. But for the first time in his life, he’d learned what it meant to belong somewhere. To someone.

  He’d probably always struggle a bit with the locals. They’d never truly forgive him for being born outside their great state of Texas. But he felt at home there, despite being an “outsider.” So he was willing to make some sacrifices. Even if it meant he had to walk away from his lifetime dream to start a new one with Charlie.

  Convinced he was doing the right thing—the only thing that mattered—he couldn’t wait to fill her in. If he could toss back this steak and get Dwight on the road, he could be cradling Charlie in his arms before nightfall.

  With each bite, cutting the huge steak into pieces, spearing it with his fork, and lifting it all the way to his mouth seemed to take more effort. His vision clouded at the edges, and Dwight’s voice echoed from a few city blocks away. Then everything faded from gray to black.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The last traces of a dream edged away, leaving him in a semiconscious state. He’d been dreaming about Charlie. They’d gone tubing, and she’d been wearing that sexy bikini. He reached out to touch her cheek before she faded away. His arm wouldn’t budge. He became aware of an ache in his shoulder. What the hell?

  His eyelids weighed about a hundred pounds each. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Water. He needed water. And the use of his arms.

  He cracked his eyelids open, fighting against the gravity pulling them down. Peering out between the slits in his eyelids, he came face-to-face with an unshaven, foul-breathed Dwight.

  “How ya feelin’ this morning?” Dwight used his fingers to pry Beck’s eyes open. “Anyone home in there?”

  Beck struggled to sit up. A zip tie held his wrist to the rail of a metal bed. “What’s going on? Where am I? Why are you here?”

  “So many questions.” Dwight unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water and held it out. “Want a drink?”

  “Can you cut me loose so I can sit up first?”

  “Nope. But I can help you up.” Dwight grabbed him by an arm and levered him to a seated position. “Better?”

  “Not much. Get this off me.”

  “Sit still and take some water.” Dwight held the bottle out, and Beck grabbed it with his free hand to take a swallow.

  “And what happens
when I need to take a piss? You thought about that?” Ridiculous. He’d always figured Dwight was a Froot Loop short of a full bowl, but this stunt was a stretch, even for him.

  “Hmm. I suppose I can help you drop trou, but you’re on your own for the shake and dribble.”

  Beck yanked and twisted his wrist. An explosive tide of rage threatened to take over, but he swallowed it back. What good will that do? Maybe he could reason with Dwight. There had to be something he wanted or needed—some reason he was doing this.

  “What’s it going to take, Dwight?”

  “For what?”

  “For you to let me loose and pretend this never happened?”

  Dwight pulled a canvas chair in front of the bunk and plopped down. “I’m not interested in negotiating. I’m working for the greater good.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? And where are we anyway?” His eyes struggled to adjust to the semidarkness. Looked like he was in some windowless cabin or something.

  “Ironically enough, we’re on your property. At least it’s yours for the next couple of hours.”

  “What time is it?” He jerked hard at the restraints, realizing. “The parade. I’ve got to talk to Charlie.” Panic rose, a shock of adrenaline to his already-thumping heart.

  “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Dwight propped his feet on the edge of the bunk and crossed his ankles. “See, Charlie doesn’t know you’re even here. She wanted me to bring you to her so she could talk you out of turning over the Rose to your dad.” Dwight tapped at his temple. “But I got to thinkin’. If you don’t show up, she gets everything, don’t she?”

  “How do you know that?” He shouldn’t be surprised that the confidential contents of the will had leaked their way out to the general population of Holiday.

  “Took Hill fishing. Folks don’t give me much credit for paying attention, so they don’t feel the need to shut their traps when I’m around.”