All-American Cowboy

by Dylann Crush

  “You sure about that?” He cocked his head and looked to Dwight to see if he was messing with him.

  “Yeah. She led me right to it. Said it was her dad’s.”

  Cash sensed her before he heard her. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the energy in the garage shifted.

  Jinx stood in the open garage door, in the same clothes as the night before.

  “Speak of the devil…” Dwight muttered.

  Cash shot him a shut-the-hell-up glare, and for once, Dwight took the hint. “Hey. Dwight was just showing me your bike.”

  She smirked. “Thanks for clarifying. I thought maybe you were about to ride off into the sunset on it.”

  Someone snorted. Damn, Dwight. Cash rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the beginning twinge of a headache. “So where’d you get a bike like this?”

  “You think I stole it or something?” She walked in a wide circle around him.

  He was a sheriff’s deputy. It was his job to be curious. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, so what you meant was I don’t look like the kind of girl who could afford a vintage, fully restored Indian motorcycle?”

  “Hey, just trying to make conversation. I’ll leave you and Dwight to it. Good luck with everything.” He didn’t need this crap. Especially not today. What he did need was to figure out where his mom was so she could tell him how to handle the bomb Kenzie’s teacher had dropped. Stopping by Dwight’s had been a bad idea. He climbed off the bike and tipped the brim of his hat toward Jinx. “See ya later, Dwight.”

  Dwight gave him a middle finger salute and a smile. Let him deal with the frosty biker chick. Cash climbed into the truck and pulled his mom’s number up on his phone, the one person he might be able to manage a productive conversation with today.

  Chapter Four

  “You sure about that?” Jinx fought against the fist squeezing her insides into a mishmashed mess. He had to be kidding. She didn’t have five grand to rebuild the engine.

  Dwight toed at the lid of a water bottle, scraping it along the concrete floor. “You’re welcome to take it somewhere else. But I’m a hundred and ten percent positive it’s gonna need a whole rebuild.”

  She didn’t bother telling him one hundred and ten percent was mathematically impossible. He might not know math, but for some reason, she believed he did know engines. Maybe it was the permanent grease stains on his hands. Or the way the guy at the mini-mart talked about him this morning when she’d asked if he did a good job. Whatever caused it, her gut trusted him. And she’d gotten a lot further in life trusting her gut than she did putting her faith in anything else.

  “When do you need the money?” That’s what it came down to. She didn’t have that much in her account, not after she’d had to move out of Wade’s and into a hotel room when she’d found out he’d been cheating on her. She should have listened to her gut when it came to that asshole.

  Dwight shrugged. “I can get started if you want. It’ll take a few weeks to figure out what parts I need and how far I gotta go to get ’em. You wanna pay me a ten percent deposit and then I can let you know when I need to order stuff?”

  “Um, can I get back to you about it?”

  Dwight lifted his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, if you don’t want me to do the work—”

  “No, it’s not that.” She was screwed. Not enough cash to get the bike fixed, probably not even enough cash to get settled in New Orleans if she gave this guy a five-hundred-dollar deposit. That’s what she got for not splitting from LA as soon as she sensed things were heading south. “I need to get some cash together. Can you hold onto it for a day or two? Just let me figure a few things out?”

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t need any help around here, do you?” She cringed as the words left her mouth. Dwight didn’t strike her as someone who was operating on all cylinders. Not that she wouldn’t do what she needed to do to get by. Her need for survival had landed her in a crapload of undesirable jobs. Pumping gas and ringing up oil changes would be a vacation from the ass pinchings she’d endured at Wade’s place.

  “Nah. I pretty much handle stuff around here on my own.”

  She let out a tiny sigh of relief.

  “But hey. I know someone who might need some help.” He snapped his fingers, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “You ever waited tables or pulled a draft beer before?”

  Ha. What other kind of job could she expect to land? “Yeah, I know my way around the back of a bar.”

  “Hang on a sec. Lemme make a call.” He stepped toward the store, holding the phone to his ear.

  Jinx climbed onto the bike and let her head rest against the handlebars. The smart thing to do would be to sell the bike. Raise a little cash, get to New Orleans, and work her ass off. If things were as hot as her friend said they were, she’d finally be able to put some cash in the bank. Someday, she’d find another sunshine-yellow Roadmaster and could pick up again then.

  Her heart squeezed, tapped out a drumroll, and squeezed again. It wouldn’t be the same though. This bike was special because it had belonged to him. She remembered when her dad had finished restoring it. He’d set her in front of him on the smooth seat and driven her around the block. She’d squealed and giggled as the wind blew through her hair. If she closed her eyes as tight as she could, she could still feel the rumble of his chest as he laughed along with her. Smell the scent of the unfiltered Camels he used to smoke.

  “You’re in luck.”

  Dwight’s voice jerked her out of the past. She scrambled off the bike, tucking her memories back where they came from…somewhere deep and dark inside.

  “Charlie needs help at the Rambling Rose. She’s about big enough to pop and said she could use an extra body to pitch in behind the bar, maybe wait some tables and stuff. You up for it?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Thanks. I really appreciate you making the call for me.”

  Dwight squinted and looked away. “You want a ride? I may as well head on over there myself. They got a special on tamale pie today, and my belly’s been bitchin’ and moanin’ like a bobcat in heat.”

  She cocked her head. Was that a thing around here? Bobcats in heat? She’d have to find out before she spent another night out in the wide open. “I’d love a ride. Thanks.”

  “I’ll meet you out by the truck in two shakes, okay?”

  Jinx nodded. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get stuck in Holiday for a couple of weeks. The weather wasn’t bad. She could find a nice patch of grass somewhere and pitch her tent. Working at a restaurant and bar would make sure she didn’t starve, and she could make enough cash to get started on fixing the bike. Her backpack wiggled. Hendrix. He wouldn’t be able to tag along if she was waiting tables. She’d figure something out.

  Hopeful she was on the right track, at least for the time being, she let Hendrix out so he could stretch his legs and take care of business as she walked toward Dwight’s truck. How bad could this Rambling Rose be?

  * * *

  Cash leaned over the fence of the pigpen to scratch Pork Chop behind the ears. The greedy sow knew he always brought a treat with him on the nights he worked security at the Rambling Rose.

  “Hey there. Kenzie wouldn’t let me out of the house without these.” He tossed a few marshmallows Pork Chop’s way. The pig grunted and snuffled, drooling as she searched out the sugary treats.

  The screen door creaked open, then slammed closed. Cash squinted, looking toward the back of the Rose.

  “Don’t you go spoiling my pig.” Charlie stood on the wooden stoop. She looked like a balloon about to sail away. He hadn’t gotten a really good look at her since last week. His niece or nephew sure had grown since then. “I was heading out to fill up her water bucket. You want to take care of that as long as you’re standing over there?”


  “Sure. Where’s Beck?” His brother-in-law had taken on even more around the Rose since Charlie got pregnant. He was usually the one left dealing with the pig.

  “He had to meet a contractor over at the house. I sure hope the baby’s room is done before little Sully shows up.” She rubbed a palm over her belly.

  “I thought y’all weren’t going to find out the gender?” Cash walked around the fence toward the hose. “You know for sure now you’re having a boy?”

  “Nah. I just have a sense. Did Lori Lynne know she was having a girl when she was pregnant with Kenzie?”

  Cash’s fingers paused on the faucet at the mention of Kenzie’s mother. Hell, Lori Lynne hadn’t had the backing of a loving husband or supportive family when she had found out she was expecting. She’d been strung out tighter than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs by the time she told him she was pregnant.

  He replaced Pork Chop’s water bucket and walked over to where his baby sister still stood on the step.

  Charlie held her hand out to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  “Not really anything but bad memories when it comes to Lori Lynne.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

  “Well, I should have known better. I just keep hoping you can find somebody like I did. Someone to make good memories with, you know?”

  He knew all right. But pickings around Holiday were fairly slim, especially once he ruled out all the girls his brothers had dated. That was one rule the five Walker brothers never broke—they didn’t go after each other’s girls, no matter how long it had been. Presley alone had worked his way through more than half the eligible female population in Conroe County. Unless Cash was open to dating someone with an AARP card or a recent high-school grad, he was out of luck. Besides, he needed to focus all his energy and attention on the one female who needed him the most—his daughter.

  “I’m glad you and Beck found each other. It’s just not in the cards for me.”

  Charlie put an arm around him, propelling him toward the doorway. “Never say never. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to open my heart again after Jackson died. But look at me now.”

  He slung an arm around his sister’s shoulders. That was the truth. No one had thought she’d be open to love again after she lost her fiancé. Thank God Beck came along. Maybe she was right. He thought he’d found love with Lori Lynne. Looking back, he’d come to realize he’d been infatuated and just trying to do the right thing when she found out she was pregnant. But maybe there was someone out there who would be a good fit for him and Kenzie.

  Charlie shrugged his arm off as she stepped through the doorway. “Now, how about something to eat before you start busting fights apart tonight?”

  “You know I’d never turn down Angelo’s ribs.”

  He followed his sister through the back hall and into the kitchen. Angelo, the head chef, had his hands buried in some sort of dough. He nodded in acknowledgment at Cash. “Fix you a slab, bro?”

  “You know I’d love it.” Cash patted his stomach. Finger-licking didn’t begin to describe the way Angelo cooked up a slab of ribs.

  “I’ll send an order out. Just give me a few.” Angelo turned his attention to the floured surface in front of him.

  “What’s he working on?” Cash asked Charlie.

  “New biscuit recipe. Why don’t you grab a seat, and the food will be out in a couple of minutes. We’ve got the twins from Abilene playing tonight. You know they always draw a rough-and-tumble kind of crowd.”

  “I can handle it.” Might be good to have to break up a few fights tonight. He’d been pissed off all week and could use a way to blow off some steam. Since his folks kept Kenzie at the big house on the nights he helped out at the Rose or had to pull an evening shift, there’d be nobody to notice if he came home with a bloodied nose or a few scrapes and scuffs.

  Charlie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Oh, I need to introduce you to the new bartender.”

  “You finally found someone to pitch in?”

  “Yeah. Crazy thing. Dwight brought her over. She’s been working here the past couple of days.”

  The muscles in his shoulders bunched up, tense, waiting to round the corner and get his first look at the new bartender. Charlie couldn’t be talking about Jinx. The last place that woman would fit in was the Rambling Rose, the oldest honky-tonk in Texas. She’d be more at home at one of the raves he’d broken up at the abandoned grain mill in the next town over.

  But there she was, commanding the space behind the bar. Teal hair spilled over her shoulders.

  Bare shoulders.

  A hot-pink Rambling Rose tank top clung to her frame like it had been spray-painted on. The scoop neck dipped low—too low—revealing an appealing glimpse of cleavage.

  All the blood drained from his face to his crotch. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been covered in a black leather jacket that was at least two sizes too big. Now all he could see was skin. Skin covered in ink. Ink with swirls, drawing his gaze over her arms, her collarbone, her chest.

  As he stood there staring, silently willing the blood to stop gravitating downward, she looked up. Her eyes locked with his. A flare of surprise flitted across her face, then she looked away.

  “Wait. Do you two…have you met her already?” Charlie squeezed his forearm, her attention bouncing back and forth between him and Jinx.

  “Yeah. I ran into her earlier this week. Her bike broke down, and I gave her a lift to Dwight’s.” He faced his sister. “You hired her? What do you even know about her situation? She was evasive when I tried to talk to her. Didn’t want to answer my questions. Could be trouble, Charlie.”

  She dismissed his concern with a scowl. “There you go again. Did you try to have a conversation with her, or did you grill her like a cop? You always think the worst about people.” Charlie moved toward the bar. Toward Jinx. “She’s on her way to New Orleans. Just needs to make some money to get her bike fixed up. It’s too bad she’s not planning on sticking around permanently though. She seems to know her way behind the bar, and with Beck spending more and more time on his craft brewery, I can use the help.”

  Cash reluctantly followed, moving closer and closer to Jinx with every step.

  Jinx looked up, nudging her chin his way. “Hey.”

  Charlie twisted to face him, waiting for a response.

  “Hi. Uh, looks like you’re working here now.” He looped his thumbs through his belt loops, rocking back on the heels of his boots.

  Jinx reached for a glass from the rack overhead, giving him a good look at the ink covering her triceps. Some sort of quote or something. “What gave it away? The fact that I’m standing behind the bar in a Rambling Rose tank top? Or did you think I sneaked back here to try to steal a beer?”

  “Look, I’m in law enforcement. I’m suspicious of everyone.”

  “Cash…” Charlie drew his name out while she clamped her hands to her hips. “What did you do to Jinx?”

  “Nothing.” That was the truth. He hadn’t done anything to her. Couldn’t blame him for being a little leery of her though. Folks like Jinx didn’t settle in tiny towns in Texas.

  “Whatever he did, please forgive him. He takes after the bumpkin side of the family. He’s just not sure what to make of a city girl like yourself.” Charlie whirled around to face Cash. “And you”—she thrust a finger in his face—“you watch your step around here.”

  He rolled his eyes, snatched her finger, and flung an arm around her. “Don’t be making idle threats. Jinx and I are just fine. Right?”

  Jinx swept a trio of empty mugs off the bar and stacked them in the bin below. “Sure. We’ll be just fine as long as you stay out of my way, ’kay?”

  “My pleasure.” He took off his hat, bending into an exaggerated bow, then backed away toward a table to wait for his dinner. Charlie was
such a bleeding heart, she’d give a complete stranger the clothes off her back if they looked like they needed them more. He’d have to keep an eye on Jinx. His gut told him she was hiding something, and he’d be damned if he’d let her take advantage of his sister’s hospitality.

  The ribs arrived, and he managed to get his fill before the band started. Jinx must have felt his gaze on her. She kept glancing his direction, that swoop of hair falling over her eyes. The guys sitting at the bar seemed to appreciate the new view. The regular bartender, Shep, was good at pulling a beer, but he didn’t provide much in the way of eye candy.

  Jinx, on the other hand, had all her assets on full display. The way the good ole boys nudged each other when she bent down to retrieve something behind the bar made his blood heat up a few degrees. Made him want to take off his shirt and throw it over her shoulders. Made him want to punch something.

  Jinx looked like the kind of girl who could handle herself. As long as she didn’t cause trouble and kept her hand out of the till, he’d let her bide her time here until she could get her bike fixed up and get out of town. Before he did something he’d regret, he headed out front to make sure the bouncer was actually carding people this week.

  The night wore on. The band hardly left the stage. The beer flowed, and the crowd erupted into a few fistfights and borderline brawls, keeping him busy straight through to last call. By the time he made it to the bar for a water, there were only a few die-hard drinkers left.

  “How’d your night go?” He leaned against a stool while he filled a plastic cup from the giant cooler of water Charlie kept on the edge of the bar.

  Jinx looked up from wiping down the counter. “You talking to me?” She glanced around, obviously giving him a hard time, since no one else was within five feet of them.

  “Look, I don’t know what it is about me that’s got your panties twisted into knots—”

  “Chill out, cowboy. There’s nothing about you that’s got my panties or any other part of me in knots. You’re not my type.”