Tempting Texas

by Kimberly Raye

  Okay, so Donna hadn’t shared that last theory. Miss Esther, the ancient librarian at the high school, had offered up her two cents on that one while getting her sideburns waxed.

  Gabe was good. Appropriate. Decent.

  That’s what her mother would have said—God rest her soul.

  “There ain’t no such thing as fireworks, baby girl,” her mother had said too many times to count. “The best you can hope for is a decent man who’ll bring home the bacon and treat you with respect.”

  At fifteen, Kim had been hesitant to jump on the decent bandwagon. The thrill of a crush had kicked decent’s ass every time. But after nearly twenty years of interacting with the opposite sex and getting her heart crushed by all those crushes, she was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, her mother had been on to something even if the woman hadn’t been an expert in the longevity department.

  Surely all of those hits and misses when it came to men had taught her something.

  Namely that when it came to marriage, chemistry just didn’t figure in. After being divorced a record five times, her mother sure as hell knew what didn’t work. She had a long list of indecent men behind her, Kim’s father included.

  No, decent was good. Reliable.

  Besides, as well as being decent, Gabe was nice, financially solvent, and he’d asked her out for date number two. And he hadn’t brought his mother this time.

  Hey, a girl had to give credit where credit was due.

  He ate several more pieces of watercress in the same ritual fashion—eat, dab, smooth—before eyeing her side of the platter. “You’re not going to eat yours, are you? Mother couldn’t make it tonight, so I told her I’d bring her a doggie bag.”

  Okay, so maybe there was such a thing as too decent. Too dependable. Too … boring.

  The notion followed her through a gluten-free raspberry cupcake that tasted more like a hockey puck than an actual dessert, all the way back to the barn to check in on the animals.

  “You’re here at nine o’clock on a Thursday night,” said the redhead refilling the hay bin in the tack room. “Which means only one thing.”

  “I’m a dedicated, conscientious teacher?”

  “He brought his mother.” Tammy Lynn wasn’t just a rough and tough redhead who used to ride the barrel racing circuit. She was a perceptive one.

  Kim shrugged. “She had previous plans.” She handed over a takeout container filled with gluten-free wheat-germ cakes. “I figured the pigs might benefit more from this than me. We’re trying to shave off a few pounds so that Oreo can make weight before the Kendall County prospect show next month. I think Tom,” he was her sixteen year-old owner, “has been giving her too many supplements.”

  “Stop trying to change the subject. Tell,” Tammy Lynn said, pulling off her gloves and dusting off her T-shirt.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  Tammy Lynn wiggled her eyebrows. “Too juicy?”

  “Too depressing. His mother couldn’t make it tonight, but he assured me she’d be ready, willing, and able for date number three before he rushed home to watch the nightly news with her.”

  Tammy Lynn sniffed at the to-go bag, then wrinkled her nose. “How can people eat this stuff?”

  “It’s good for you.”

  “The only thing good for me is a megadose of sugar and caffeine.” She put the bag aside and reached for a thermos full of sweet tea.

  Taking a huge swig, she swallowed and sighed. “I still don’t understand this whole health food thing.”

  “I told you. I’m rethinking my health.”

  “Your mom didn’t die because of her diet. She had a heart attack.”

  “That might have been prevented had she followed a better diet.”

  “And maybe it was just her time to go. Whether or not pizza with extra cheese was involved didn’t matter. I hate to say it about Gabe, but I told you so. He’s a total nut job.”

  “He’s not a nut job.”

  “He’s boring,” Tammy Lynn pointed out.

  “Boring can be good.”

  “So sayeth the woman who specializes in the subject. You need to get a life, Kim, not another dating service. Get yourself some skinny jeans and a tank top and hit the local honky-tonk. You’ve got the figure for it.”

  “My butt is too big.”

  “Men like a little cush for the push.”

  “And my boobs are too small.”

  “Nothing a few gel inserts can’t fix.”

  “And my thighs are too wide.”

  “That’s what the skinny jeans are for. And make sure you get them starched.” She indicated the denim hugging her ample thighs. “The stiffer the starch, the more control. They hold it all in. Besides, no man is going to be looking at your thighs if you let that long blond hair of yours down and show ’em a little cleavage. Men don’t focus on flaws. They go for the overall picture. You should stop all this health stuff—”

  “It’s called a life makeover.”

  “Whatever. You should just stop it, head to Bud’s, and suck down some drinks. Life is too short.”

  “That’s my point. It doesn’t have to be.”

  “So sayeth a grade-A control freak.”

  “I’m not a control freak. I just feel like I need to do something.”

  “Exactly. Control freak. I hope you at least told Gabe where to get off,” Tammy Lynn went on. “He’s bad enough on his own without bringing his equally boring mother.” When Kim just shrugged, Tammy Lynn gave her a pointed stare. “You did tell him to eff off, didn’t you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Okay, so you said it a bit more tactfully, but you still said it, right?”

  “Sort of.” When Tammy Lynn frowned, she added, “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have agreed to another date, but it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. We’re just going to karaoke at the VFW Hall next week. His mom likes to sing Lady Gaga.”

  “I take it back. That might not be so boring after all. In fact, maybe I’ll swing by. Does she dress up, too?”

  “Just stop it.” She shook her head. “I’m pathetic, huh? Not for going out with Gabe, though—he’s turning out to be just what I’m looking for in a man. Although he is a little too attached to his mother.”

  “Cord syndrome. She hasn’t cut him loose and he doesn’t have the balls to do it himself.”

  Tammy Lynn took another swig of tea. “And you’re not pathetic. A little desperate maybe, but still a notch up from pathetic. Pathetic is not having a date—boring loser or otherwise—for seven months, six days, and four hours.”

  “Roger hasn’t called?”

  “Not for seven months, six days, and four hours.” She sighed, a low, pitiful sound that roused the four goats chewing at a hay bale. They trotted over to the fence and started whining to Tammy Lynn who pulled a piece of apple from her T-shirt pocket and watched it disappear in one gulp.

  “It’s good to see that you’re not obsessing.” It was supposed to be a joke, but Tammy Lynn didn’t crack a smile.

  She simply sighed again, louder this time.

  “I’m spending so much time playing Candy Crush, my family is plotting an intervention,” the older woman added.

  “You really miss him, don’t you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’d had it with all his snoring and burping and I won’t even mention what he did at my mother’s house after he ate three bowls of her five-alarm chili.” She shook her head. “I’ve had better sex all by myself.” Her voice lowered a notch and her expression grew more thoughtful. “What I really miss the most is having a warm body waiting at home.”

  Amen to that.

  “Someone to talk to,” Tammy Lynn went on. “Laugh with, smile at. Someone to just be there.” Tammy Lynn took another drink. “You’d think with all the hookup sites, that it would be easier to find someone. I’ve been on FarmersOnly.com and a dozen others, and nothing has worked.”

  Don’t I know it?

  Kim ditc
hed the thought and held tight to her optimism. “You’ll find someone, just like I have.”

  “You’re making me feel worse.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. You’ll find someone perfect for you the way Gabe is perfect for me.”

  “That’s not much better.”

  “You’ll be okay.” She changed tactics. “We both will. We just can’t get discouraged.”

  “What about horny? Can we get horny because I’m already there. Even a vibrator doesn’t help. Twelve inches sucks without a pair of arms for cuddling after the fact.”

  “I like ’em twelve inches myself,” said the sixtysomething man who rounded the corner, a briefcase in his hand. “There’s nothing like a foot-long with extra onions and chili to really rev up the old system. And don’t forget the sauerkraut.”

  Tammy Lynn winked at Kim before turning a smile on Arthur Wallis Sawyer, the school’s principal and resident wiener connoisseur.

  “Can’t say that I’ve tried any with sauerkraut, but it sounds interesting. So what’s up, Principal Sawyer? You pulling a late night, too?”

  “Can’t have you teachers showing me up.” His gaze shifted to Kim and his smile widened. “Both of my best teachers hard at work on a Thursday night? Why, you guys are making me look like a slacker.”

  Both, as in Cade Thompson, Athletics department supervisor and head football coach. He was rough and tough and just this side of a caveman, or so the rumors suggested. Kim couldn’t say herself because she’d exchanged little more than pleasantries with him during the six months he’d been at Rebel High. Cade was more of a yeller than a talker, as any varsity football player would say.

  “So where is he?” Kim asked.

  “Locked up in the field house, plotting our opening season ass kicking against Travis High School, bless his competitive soul. Speaking of planning, please tell me that you’ve finished your lesson plan for the fall. I have to submit it to the school district for approval first thing Monday morning.”

  “Geez, Principal Art, Kim’s got a life, you know. Her existence doesn’t revolve around this place. She’s on a manhunt.”

  “A manhunt?” His gaze shifted to Kim. “You’re hunting for a man? Is this true, Miss Bowman?”

  “I thought it high time I settled down.”

  “Meaning,” Tammy Lynn cut in, “her biological clock is ticking and she’s starting to get desperate.”

  “I’m not desperate. I’m simply looking for more than just twelve inches.” Kim wanted someone who would like and respect her for who she was. Someone who wouldn’t be disappointed once the lust faded, because of who she wasn’t. Someone completely opposite every man her mother had ever brought home. “As for that lesson plan,” she glanced at her watch, “I can finish it up tonight if I get started now.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. There were only three things that never failed to nab the principal’s attention—work and food and football.

  “Get to it, Kim!” He waved his briefcase before saying good night and heading back down the concrete stretch leading out of the barn.

  “Do you believe that guy?” Tammy Lynn said once he was out of earshot. “He leaves us here slaving away while he waltzes home.”

  “Well, you do work the night shift.”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Which is?”

  “You don’t.” Tammy Lynn looked at her pointedly.

  “Tonight I do.” She left Tammy Lynn and headed through the parking lot to the main building. Inside, she flashed her ID badge and headed to her classroom on the second floor.

  After flipping on all the lights, she sank down at her desk and keyed her computer. The blank lesson plan flashed in front of her and she damned herself for not working on it sooner. But she’d been busy working on something much more important.

  Her future.

  Not that the rest of her colleagues would get that.

  And that was the problem in a nutshell.

  One that had reared its ugly head a few months back when Mr. Sheffield had had his heart attack and she’d been promoted to head of the Ag department.

  She’d never really noticed how dark, how quiet, how utterly empty her place was until she’d rushed home, bursting at the seams with the good news, and found no one to share it with except her next-door neighbor, the elderly Mr. Camper. And he’d already been sound asleep, so she’d had no one to listen to her, to smile at her, to pat her on the back and tell her she’d finally made it.

  Her mother was gone, passed away just last year from a massive heart attack caused by clogged arteries, and Kim herself had always been too busy with her students, too driven, too focused, to have time for a goldfish much less a man.

  Until now.

  While her professional life was looking up, personally, things couldn’t get much worse and she had a freezer full of Single Sensation frozen entrees to prove it.

  No more.

  She was finding herself a significant other before she hit the big three-five.

  Her thoughts shifted to Gabe and Benny.

  She was well on her way with two hot prospects. All right, so they were more lukewarm than hot, but it wasn’t about lust.

  Standing in the employee lounge she’d heard her share of war stories regarding catastrophic dates. There was the boring date with the guy who talked nonstop about his hobby—collecting napkins from truck stops all over the country. The blind date with the guy who sucked his teeth. The infuriating date with the guy who argued religion all night. The depressing date with the guy who plotted revenge against his cheating ex. The date that qualified more as a lesson in tactical maneuvers with the guy who had fast hands.

  And lips.

  And she still hadn’t gotten over the news of what he’d tried to do with his big toe.

  And all because women had it wrong when they were looking for a husband. They let lust and chemistry dominate the search.

  Forget a man who wanted to bang the crap out of her. She wanted a man who liked her.

  Like how great she looked wearing her ratty old TEXAS A & M sweatshirt. And how great she smelled when she’d been pitching hay in the Ag barn all day. And how she really, really didn’t need to worry about her weight because her size 14 hips were just fine as is.

  Like. That’s what she was looking for. Mutual like between two compatible people.

  Her gaze went to the romance novel she’d confiscated from Susie Branders earlier that day. A hunky cowboy blazed on the cover.

  Okay, so a good-looking compatible man wouldn’t be completely frowned on.

  But it wasn’t a priority.

  It was all about goodness and decency and …

  Gabe.

  He was it and she needed to accept that fact. No matter how unsettling the notion.

  CHAPTER 19

  It was a terrible night for a stakeout.

  The moon was full, the stars bright, both of which made for poor cover for anyone trying to stay out of sight.

  Silvery beams pushed down through the trees and illuminated the old truck and the smokestack that protruded from the rusted-out bed. Smoke whispered from the opening, fading into the sky like warm breath on a cold night.

  Yep, it was a terrible night for a stakeout and prime time to get his ass blown to smithereens.

  Hunter let the binoculars fall around his neck and shrank back behind the trees a good fifty yards away from ground zero. He couldn’t risk moving in closer, not with the game camera blinking on a nearby tree and the visibility of the full moon.

  Seeing what was actually going on was going to be more difficult, so he was going to have to rely on his other senses.

  Water trickled from a nearby stream, blending with the crickets that buzzed. His ears perked and he tuned his hearing, peeling away the various sounds until he heard the crackle of a fire. He couldn’t see anything with the old shell of the truck hiding what was underneath, but he knew there was a fire burning, feeding smoke through the pipe. They were brewi
ng, which meant it wasn’t the Mayweather brothers because they were tucked away at home with a deep-dish pizza and a triple-threat brownie from the local Papa John’s. They’d been fired, all right.

  Which meant someone had to have taken their place.

  He eased slowly to the left, picking his way silently until he had a better vantage point.

  He held up the binoculars, sweeping the area again until he finally noted the small round globe that perched on a tree branch nearby. It blended in for the most part, but Hunter had seen enough cameras to know one when he saw it. He studied the area, looking for more but there was just the one. It reflected a ray of moonlight that pushed down through the trees at just the right angle and stood out when it might have otherwise blended in.

  Biding his time, he moved a safe distance around the perimeter, straining to hear voices or any indication that there were actual people nearby.

  There had to be. The still was brewing so someone had to be tending it.

  A faint thud, like metal hitting metal, pushed past the crickets and he stiffened. He watched as one of the old truck doors opened and a man emerged. He wore a baseball cap pulled low and a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. He dumped a jug full of liquid onto the ground before disappearing back inside the cab of the truck. His head bobbed and disappeared and Hunter knew the truck was just a cover for the still set up below, probably in a cave dug into the earth, the truck parked on top like a forgotten relic from the past year’s flood.

  No one would suspect what was going on underneath.

  Hunter fell back, backtracking for the next one hundred yards until he knew he was a safe distance away, and then he waited for the next few hours until he heard voices and the distant grumble of a four-wheeler. The engine idled a few moments before fading slowly but surely until … nothing.

  He moved cautiously then, easing his way until he reached his previous spot. A quick look-see through the binoculars and he noted that the smoke had disappeared. The dome still gleamed in the moonlight, but the game camera nearby had been opened up, the outer shell hanging open to reveal that the inside had been removed.