The Big Girl's Guide to Buying Lingerie: A Cowboy Love Story (Bluebonnet, Texas Book 4)

by Amie Stuart

  “Sure, but I’m not hungry. I think I should go.”

  That would be best. “Fine.” He shoveled in another bite of potatoes, then flinched at the scrape of Jade's chair. No way would he check on Liv—Mom. If she missed him, she knew how to reach him.

  Jade returned a few minutes later, wearing her own shirt but no bra. Her bra was still stuffed in the pocket of his sweats on the bathroom floor. He stood up, but she waved her hand, stopping him.

  “Don’t bother. I can see myself out.” She gently squeezed his bicep, trying to catch his eye. Her gentleness, her directness shoved his temper up another notch.

  Did she have to sound so fucking polite?

  “I parked behind you.” Rowdy stood up anyway and headed outside with her on his heels. The day had quickly turned hot. So hot he felt as if his skin were burning in the minute it took him to walk to his truck, but the peaceful quiet of his neighborhood surprised him. Considering he didn’t feel peaceful and quiet inside.

  He’d had his fantasy fulfilled, he thought as he backed the Bronco out of the drive and sat waiting at the curb. She backed out and he pulled in and parked again, pocketing his keys.

  He was heading back in the house when she pulled in behind his Bronco. He turned and waited to see what she’d do next. Maybe she wanted her bra. The contrary part of him refused to let him mention it.

  She slid out from behind the wheel of her sports car and strolled across the grass, her back straight, skirt swishing around her bare feet and her heavy breasts gently bouncing. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead. When she reached him, she whipped off her sunglasses and yanked on the collar of his t-shirt, jerking his head down.

  He didn’t resist.

  Skye didn’t loosen her grip as her lips teased his. He gave in, sealing her mouth, but gave her complete control. Her tongue plundered and teased until he was ready to drag her back inside, tell the world to go to hell, and make love to her all day. She broke the kiss, both of them panting for air in the summer heat, and shoved her sunglasses back on before looking at him.

  “Seems like every time we end up in bed something happens. Of course, this time we didn’t technically end up in bed, huh?” She patted his chest and turned toward her car. He stood perfectly still, struggling against the urge to watch her walk away or call out to her. Beg. He didn’t beg—ever.

  So much for a relaxing Sunday in bed.

  “If you want, you can call me,” she shouted. The next sound he heard was the car door slamming.

  AIN’T MISS BEHAVIN

  AND THEY CALL WOMEN sensitive? I was so distracted on the drive home, I didn’t even turn the radio on. I’m not sure why I retreated. Other than his anger and obvious withdrawal over his sister’s letter. I couldn’t say I wasn’t shocked about Rowdy’s sister being incarcerated, but his reaction had been more than a bit overboard.

  Butthead!

  Charlene’s letter had sounded truly contrite and I felt sorry for her, but I’m a bleeding heart liberal. Though to be honest, I’m not quite sure what a bleeding heart liberal is. I’d grown up around politicians and judges and had learned at an early age to tune them out. Boring, pompous and fake were the words that came to mind, and I always voted for the underdog, just as a matter of principle.

  As I flew down the highway, I briefly considered driving out to Toni’s or Susie’s for advice, then decided to lay low and see what Toenail Night at Betti’s house brought. I could ask then.

  I spent the rest of Sunday recuperating. Muscles screamed in places I hadn’t known muscles existed, but I couldn’t stop grinning as I sank into a tub of steaming hot water liberally laced with bubble bath. I had sex on a horse.

  After my bath, I settled in at the computer with a vegetable stuffed omelet. Great, another urgent e-mail from Chrys:

  Skye ...I got you a ticket for Ft. Worth!! Better check in on the list. People are starting to ask about you. Especially with Shy gone and you going underground all at the same time.

  You’re a scrooge with details, girl!!! But I’ll let you slide—this time ;-)

  Caglehugs!

  Chrys

  I typed a quick reply, answered a few list emails and made excuses about work being busy, then sat there contemplating whether to write Rowdy an e-mail or not. Unsure of what to say, I opted for not and called it an early night.

  MONDAY FLEW BY and at 6:30 I stood on Betti’s front porch, a small basket of nail polish accessories and two bottles of a nice Texas Riesling in my arms. Betti’s husband, Ty answered the door, waving me in with a dimpled smile.

  “Have a good time,” Ty murmured as he slipped out the door. His reserved nature left me blinking. It was such a contrast to Betti’s almost outrageous personality.

  “Don’t mind him, sweetie,” Betti hollered from the couch, as if she’d read my mind. “He’s a little on the quiet side. Come on in here, you already know everyone.”

  Two steps led down into the living room/dining room combo done up with pale peach walls. Sheer maroon curtains hung from elaborate rods that looked like bronzed ropes. But the fuzzy white shag carpet surprised me. Betti might be a girly-girl, but she was still practical, and white carpet on a ranch wasn’t very practical. Oh well.

  On the denim couch and love seat were Betti, Rene, whose frown I couldn’t miss, Maggie, Toni, Delaney and Susie. Jessa sat in an oversized denim chair, nursing Hope.

  Susie quickly explained: everyone picked a partner and exchanged pedicures while we chatted, drank wine and ate. I deliberately picked her. As Rowdy’s former lover, she’d be the one to try and get some insight from.

  “So, how are things with you and Rowdy?” Susie murmured over the buzz of a foot bath beside us.

  I grimaced up at her, and then returned my attention to nipping the cuticles on her toes.

  “Now don’t tell me after I saw you two cooin’ at each other Saturday night, y’all still can’t get it together.”

  Getting it together was the least of our problems.

  I sighed and tucked my hair behind my ears. “I feel like I’m playing tug-of-war.”

  “Get used to it, Sugar,” Betti piped up from her position on the couch. “The tuggin’ never stops.”

  “Well, I’m at a loss. Susie, you know him pretty well, maybe you...I dunno. Could give me some tips.”

  She frowned at me. I’d forgotten not everyone knew about her and Rowdy. “I’ve known Rowdy his whole life, honey. He’s stubborn to the core, I can tell you that. But he’ll never treat a woman bad.”

  “Then why won't he have anything to do with his sister? It just doesn’t seem fair when he treats Hope almost like his own.” I motioned to the car seat where Hope lay sleeping.

  Susie sighed and glanced over my head, her eyes roving around the room. I felt like I’d really put her on the spot, asked too much of her, but I plunged forward anyway. Surely one of them had to have some idea. “How’d you find out about Charlene?”

  “I found a letter—I wasn’t trying to be nosy; it was stuffed in with some sale ads—but he got all bent out of shape. I just don’t understand how, if women mean so much to him, he can ignore his own mother and sister!”

  “What do you know about my mom?” Rene asked from her position on the floor behind me. She’d ended up partnering with Betti.

  “I know she’s in prison,” I said softly, turning around to give her a tiny smile. “But that seems so unlike him to cut her off, no matter what she did.”

  “Rowdy’s an idealist,” Toni threw in. “He knows how the world works, knows that it can be an ugly place, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.”

  “And with Rowdy, it’s always women and children first.” Maggie gave me an easy smile from her spot beside Susie.

  “So his sister’s not the underdog? She’s in prison.” I frowned, trying to sort it all out.

  “Mom let him down. She let everyone down.”

  Toni sighed. “Rene, you know as well as I do—”

  “I know, I know, Toni. She
was young and dumb,” Rene drawled with a roll of her eyes.

  “And his mother?”

  “I’m guessing here,” Susie said, “but I think he feels like she let him down also.”

  “Loyalty gets loyalty,” Betti softly interjected.

  “Rowdy didn’t exactly have a Leave it to Beaver childhood.” Susie wiggled her toes for emphasis.

  “Now, he told me his mom moved, but left him here with Tim to finish school.”

  Maggie’s throat clearing caught my attention. “She did. I don’t know the particulars, but Rowdy’s dad, Big Rob was not a nice man. Maybe Liv took off because she couldn’t stay here with all the memories after losing her daughter and husband within months of each other.”

  “Or all the talk,” Susie softly added.

  Maggie nodded in agreement.

  Talk? According to Betti, everyone had their ‘place’ in Bluebonnet. What had Rowdy’s been?

  Welcome to the dark side? So much for my carefree Redneck Casanova. I’d hooked up with one very complicated and complex man. And his touchiness over any mention of his dad or other family members now all made sense. Loyalty.

  “He keeps pushing me away.” And the logical part of my brain said it was a defense mechanism. I’d walked out on him yesterday, and he expected me to not come back. I nodded slowly and looked up at Susie. “How do I convince him I won't let him down? That I won't leave him.”

  “Do you want to?” Jessa spoke up for the first time. “Do you wanna stick it out? Cause if you don’t, don’t bother.”

  “It’s all about the good, the bad and the ugly,” Betti added softly. “If you want him, you just have to be there through it all. Sounds simple, but sometimes it’s not.”

  “And ya gotta fake it,” Rene threw in.

  My jaw dropped as I slowly turned around and looked at her. After everyone recovered from their laughter, I asked the burning question. “What exactly do I need to fake?”

  She smirked, then giggled before replying, “How much you like him, silly. You can’t act like you like a boy too much or you’ll scare him off. Even I know that.”

  I was getting man advice from a fourteen-year-old. Worse, it was right on target.

  “I hate to say it,” Betti said with a laugh, “but she’s right. I don’t think Rowdy’s someone you can push too hard. Just nudge gently, frequently.”

  Nudge gently, frequently, huh?

  When the party broke up, Susie walked me out to my car. “I’m sorry if I put you on the spot in there by asking you specifically about Rowdy.”

  “You didn’t. But who told you?”

  “Betti.” I kept my eyes on my hands.

  She patted me on the shoulder. “He used to pull this routine of his. A Wife-For-A-Night.”

  I grimaced and waited for an explanation.

  “He’d pick up a local from the dancehall and take her home. Buy her breakfast afterward. According to Tim, he hasn’t in months—like three or four.” She arched both blond eyebrows for emphasis. In other words, since shortly after we “met” and long before our first date. But why?

  “Be patient with him,” Susie continued. “Don’t let him push you too hard—or bluff you too good.”

  I chuckled and we smiled at each other in understanding.

  “I’m trusting you with him.” She squeezed my shoulders and nodded for emphasis.

  She trusted me with his heart.

  And I’d do my best by her.

  The was sun nearly gone by the time I pulled into the driveway behind Rowdy’s Bronco and parked. I trotted up to the porch in my flip-flops, walking on my heels to protect my shiny pink toes. The kitchen door stood open with the screen shut, and I heard a sprinkler nearby. Something else too. I listened harder. It was a guitar. “Shy?” Where had that come from? It had been ages since I thought of him as Shy, which totally didn’t fit him anyway.

  “Back here.”

  I found him sitting on the back porch steps dressed in frayed cut off shorts and a navy tank top. He had a baseball cap jammed backwards on his head and a guitar cradled in his arms. A beer sat at his side. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you, of course.” Smiling, I sashayed closer and sat beside him. Never mind that he hadn’t invited me to stay. I stretched my legs out in front of me and crossed them at the ankles.

  “I see you went to Toenail Night.” He tipped his beer bottle at my toes before taking a sip.

  Keep it light. Don’t let him know how much you like him. I wiggled my toes for his inspection, while giving him another brilliant smile. “Yeah. It was fun.”

  He glanced back at my feet before meeting my eye. “And you just...decided to be sociable on the way home?”

  I took his beer from his hand and sipped at it, trying not to make a face. Blarh! Warm beer. “I wanted to show you my toes.”

  Rowdy snickered a bit and took his beer back, propping his guitar against the porch rail with his free hand.

  “What? You don’t believe me?” I gave him my best wide-eyed and offended look, despite my heart slamming against my ribs. “Okay, maybe I’m horny.” I shrugged and grinned at him. He laughed and ducked his head. The almost bashful action charmed me.

  Be bold. Be brave. Take charge. I made myself stand up and straddle his lap, sinking down against his crotch.

  “I’m sweaty.”

  “So what’s a little sweat among friends.” I set his beer aside, then pushed his ball cap off his head and studied his face. It was too dark for me to read the expression in his eyes, so I used my fingers instead. He hadn’t shaved and his stubble felt rough against my fingertips, but his moustache was soft. “What do they call this?” I ran my fingertip over the upside down “U” his moustache made. “A fu man chew?” I asked, giggling.

  “Pervert.” His warm breath tickled my fingers. He gave me a wicked grin and slid his hands up the back of my shirt. “It's like a mini-beard with a moustache.”

  I gently scratched his head, unable to hold back another giggle.

  “You like bald?” His hands inched higher and higher on my back.

  “Oh, please. You’ve got plenty of hair left.” Surely he wasn’t that self-conscious about his hair.

  “I’ll probably be a cue ball by the time I’m thirty.” His fingers crept beneath my wide bra strap.

  “Bald can be very sexy, you know.” I leaned back a bit and took a good look at him, trying to visualize a Rowdy with no hair. I could see the possibilities. He’d definitely be the kind of man who could pull it off with his rough and tumble attitude. “I confess I have a weakness for blondes, but I can see you bald with about three days growth on your face, lookin’ all rugged.”

  He chuckled while his fingers worked at the hooks of my bra. “Rugged, huh?”

  “Yeah, rugged.” I slowly rubbed against his very obvious erection and leaned in to kiss him, tracing his lips with my tongue. Despite some lingering soreness, I wanted to make love to him in the worst way. His velvety soft tongue tempted me to push a little deeper, kiss him a little harder, and I struggled to keep it light and teasing.

  The last hook popped free, and my nipples immediately tightened at the thought of freedom. “Satin or lace?”

  “Cotton.” I smiled

  “Cotton is good.” Rowdy pushed my bra above my breasts and cupped them in his hands, gently kneading them. When his thumbs glanced across my nipples, my thighs clenched and I settled closer against his erection. I bit back a harsh moan. I wanted to bite him, strip him down and taste every sweaty inch of him right here on his back porch. I decided a kiss would just have to do and teasingly explored Rowdy’s mouth again.

  He broke the kiss and stared at me. Even in the dim light, I couldn’t miss the intense look on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

  “You have enough trees your neighbors won't see me, and I’ll keep it down,” I quipped, being deliberately obtuse. He wasn’t just asking about sex.

  “I meant about being with me.” His voice was low
and gruff.

  Bingo! “Well, I can't make you any promises about how long but, yeah, I’m sure I wanna be with you.” I enjoyed throwing his own words back in his face, almost the same exact words he’d said to me last Saturday afternoon. But at the same time, I kept it light. I didn’t want to come off bitchy.

  Being in charge, in control, had its own effect on me. I was extremely turned on, but again, I’d already decided I wasn’t staying.

  “I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with that then, huh?” he whispered.

  Time for Phase 2. “You owe me a date,” I murmured against his lips between kisses.

  “Huh?” He frowned at me. At my sudden change of topic, I suppose.

  I wriggled out of my bra and hung it from his guitar, and then pushed his hands out from under my shirt and eased off his lap.

  “You owe me a date, Honey. Pick me up at six o'clock Wednesday night.” I planted a quick soft kiss on his lips.

  “Where you goin’?” he demanded.

  “Home.” I picked my keys up from where I’d dropped them on the porch and rattled them with a little smile.

  “Home?”

  I pressed my lips together, fighting a grin at the shock in his voice. “Yeah. It’s late and I have to work tomorrow.”

  “I thought you’d wanna stay the night.”

  We were playing by my rules now and I intended to win. I wriggled out of his tight grasp.

  “I’ve had a long day.” The sad look on his face almost made me giggle. And almost made me stay, but I stuck to my resolve. If I wanted something long-term, I’d have to make him think we were playing on his terms. The rules that, up to now, he’d lived by. The ones I finally understood.

  Wife-For-A-Night, my ass!

  I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, but before I could get away, he grabbed me and slipped his tongue past my lips, moaning in my mouth as his hands fisted in my hair.