One Hot Cowboy Wedding

by Carolyn Brown

Ace shrugged and stood up. Spurs jingled and she looked down at his boots.

  He poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the small kitchen table. “I promised Raylen that I’d help break a few horses today. Gemma usually helps, but she’s got hair fixin’ goin’ on all day. I’m on my way to Raylen’s place. Now to answer your question about the will, Grandpa never told me why or even that he had put that in his will, but things he said that year before he died kind of make sense now. He kept telling me that a ranch needed a woman; that she was the icing on the cake. Ranch could run without a woman, but it was a hell of a lot sweeter with one on the place. And he said that first year of marriage was a booger bear but that if a man could make it through the whole year, then he could make it through fifty and each one got sweeter. Guess he figured the Double Deuce needs a woman, and if I stay married to her a year then by damn, it’ll last fifty.”

  She cracked eight eggs into a bowl and whipped them frothy before pouring them out onto the grill. “He was telling you without telling you, wasn’t he?”

  “Looks like it. Been a lot easier if he would have just spit it right on out and hadn’t beat around the bush,” Ace said.

  “Steak and eggs and pancakes,” Jasmine said as she set four plates on the shelf between the kitchen and the dining room and took down the next order.

  Bridget waved through the window at Ace and set two plates on a tray. “Couldn’t stay away from her, could you?”

  Ace grinned. “You got it. Got to make sure all the other cowboys in Ringgold know that she’s my wife.”

  “You fell into the husband role pretty damn fast,” Jasmine whispered.

  “And you are doing a fine job too, thank you very much, Mrs. Riley,” Ace threw back.

  “Two days down, three hundred and sixty-three to go,” she said.

  He turned up his cup and gulped down the last of the coffee. “Got to run, darlin’. Horses got to be broke. Hay’s got to be raked. See you at suppertime. Now don’t be beggin’ me to stick around and kiss on you all day just because we are still newlyweds. A man has to make a livin’ for his woman and there’s things he has to do in the daytime other than sit around dreamin’ up new ways to have sex in the evenin’ when she gets home from work.”

  She looked up to tell him that he’d better get out the back door or else take a beating with a egg turner for that little speech just in time to see his lips coming toward her. She didn’t have time to turn or run, or even get ready for the electricity that zapped her when his tongue teased her mouth open. The kitchen got fifty degrees hotter, her belly clinched up in knots, and her knees went weak.

  Then he strolled out the back door as if it hadn’t affected him at all.

  She melted into a chair. “And I’ve got three hundred sixty-three days more until the divorce. I’ll never make it that long, not without seducing him or letting him seduce me. And then I’ll fulfill every one of his dreams.”

  ***

  Ace’s hands were trembling as he gripped the steering wheel. Blake Shelton had a song out a couple of years before titled “Delilah” and it fit that day perfectly. The song talked about a girl who had a best friend who was always right there to listen to her and listen when her love life went south. Only the best friend was in love with her and really wanted her to love him.

  That’s where Ace was that morning. He’d realized after he married Jasmine that she was his Delilah. She’d never let him down. She’d been right there in front of him, every day for a year and a half, while he moaned and groaned about the women in his life and how they were all so clingy and he just wanted a good time, not a permanent commitment.

  Ace looked at the barbed wire tat on his arm. He’d bragged about no woman ever getting across his barbed wire fence and into his heart. How in the devil had Jasmine snuck under it without him even feeling a twinge?

  He slapped the steering wheel. “It’s going to be a long year.”

  ***

  At the close of the day, Bridget locked the doors and began her daily ritual of getting things refilled and cleaned up for Wednesday. Jasmine picked up the broom and started at the back side of the dining room, sweeping crumbs and sweetener wrappers from under the tables.

  “Guess what? I’ve got a date for Saturday night. Divorce is final. Ex-husband has put out the word that he’s going to marry that floozy he’s been livin’ with, and I’ve got a date. Who’d have thought that when I walked in this place six months ago?” she said.

  “That’s good. Just don’t be fallin’ for the same abusive type you got in trouble with before,” Jasmine said.

  “Not me. That man done broke me of bad boy types. Daddy likes Frankie James, even, and Momma thinks he hung the moon. He was this bashful kid in school who never said a word. Made good grades but didn’t play sports or go out drinkin’ and partyin’ on Saturday night. We’re going to dinner at a steak house and then to a movie,” Bridget said.

  “Where did you meet him?” Jasmine asked.

  “At a softball game. I ain’t played since I married because my ex was too jealous to let me play that first year and the second I was too fat. Me and Frankie are on the same co-ed team and we play on Friday nights. Frankie said that he liked me in high school but he was afraid to ask me out because he knew I’d say no. And he’s right. In high school, I would have never gone out with him, but things is different now,” Bridget said.

  “Well, I hope you have a wonderful time. But save the second weekend in July for me, please. That’s the weekend of the wedding.”

  Bridget’s eyes went wide. “I got that marked on my calendar. I wouldn’t miss that for nothing. Who all is standing up there with you, again?”

  “Austin, Pearl, Liz, Gemma, Colleen, and Lucy. I think you should wear the silver dress. It would look good on you. What do you think?”

  “What other colors is there?” Bridget asked.

  Jasmine leaned on the broom. “Momma is picking out metal colors like gold, bronze, pewter, and silver. She’ll insist that Pearl wear the gold.”

  “I don’t care if I have to wear orange with purple spots on it; I’m just so tickled that I get to be one of the bridesmaids. Can I bring Frankie if things work out between us?” Bridget asked.

  “Sure you can, and to the rehearsal dinner, too.”

  “Wow!” Bridget shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it.

  Both of them looked up when they heard a hard tapping on the door window and saw Gemma and Austin on the porch. Bridget was closest to the door, so she unlocked it.

  “We was just talkin’ about the weddin’. Y’all decided what color you are wearing?” Bridget asked.

  “You were serious about that wedding? You are already married,” Austin said.

  “I know that. The state of Nevada knows that, but my momma, Kelly King, says it’s not legal without the white dress, seven bridesmaids, and a reception that is so gaudy that no one will ever forget that I’m married,” Jasmine said.

  “You weren’t kidding on Sunday, then? We all thought you were making a joke about your mother planning a wedding. Figured it might be a reception. I never heard of getting married before the wedding,” Austin said.

  “Second Sunday in July. I’ve got to shop for a dress this weekend and Momma says if it’s not fancy enough she’ll have a backup one on hand.”

  “And I get to be a bridesmaid. Gemma is one, and there’s seven of us altogether,” Bridget beamed.

  “And I’m a bridesmaid, too. It’ll be fun. A wedding when the bride and groom are already married.” Austin shook her head. “I bet Ace just loves that idea.”

  “If he wants to get along with his new mother-in-law, he’d better pretend to love it even if he doesn’t,” Jasmine said.

  “How’d you come up with seven?”

  “Ace has six brothers and Momma says they are all going to stand up with him to show that they support our marriage. And he’s going to ask Rye to be his best man since they’ve been best friends forever.”

  “Wha
t about Wil?” Austin asked.

  “Eight.” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Ace has probably already talked to Wil and Pearl is the matron of honor. I need one more.”

  As if Kelly could read her daughter’s mind, the phone rang.

  “Hello, Momma,” Jasmine said.

  “You sound tired. You’re doin’ too much, runnin’ a café and a ranch. You’re goin’ to have to quit that café, girl, or you’ll never get pregnant,” Kelly said.

  “I’m not quitting my café,” Jasmine said.

  “Have it your way, but if you look tired and worn out at my wedding I’m going to be really upset. I called to tell you that we are still looking at invitations. We just can’t make up our minds. Oh, and how many dresses are we going to need to order?”

  “Looks like we need one more than I told you. I forgot a groomsman. How about Marcella’s daughter, Jenny? Think she’d like to be in the wedding? And Momma, you can pick out a couple of flower girls. How about Marcella’s two granddaughters?”

  “Oh, Jasmine, that is so sweet of you. Marcella will be so tickled. I’ve got to go to the kitchen and tell her all about it. Jenny is going to be dancin’ on air. Good-bye, now.” Kelly hung up.

  “I’ll need that Jenny’s name for the bachelorette party,” Gemma said.

  Jasmine threw up both palms. “Oh, no! I’m already married. No party, please!”

  “Oh, okay,” Gemma grumbled. “But you won’t talk me out of a baby shower when the time comes.”

  Jasmine did a fake shudder from her shoulders to knees. “I’m only married a few days. Don’t be talking baby showers to me now.”

  “Pearl is having twins. Your momma is already behind,” Austin reminded her.

  Jasmine shuddered again, this time for real.

  “Bachelorette party don’t sound so bad now, does it?” Austin laughed.

  “Hey, you and Rye went to the courthouse. How’d you get away with that anyway?” Jasmine asked.

  “We didn’t altogether. My two little elderly friends in Ryan threw us a big reception. Ask Gemma about Molly and Greta.”

  Jasmine looked over at Gemma.

  Gemma smiled. “They were all thrown out of the same mold as Pearl’s Aunt Pearlita and Austin’s Granny Lanier about eighty years ago. God made women even more sassy and bossy then than he does now. We couldn’t begin to be as tough as those women.”

  Bridget changed the subject. “So what color dress are y’all going to wear?”

  “Better be decidin’ before next Sunday. We’re meeting at Pearl’s to choose colors and get sizes,” Jasmine said.

  Chapter 10

  Jasmine was dragging by Wednesday night. Everything was set up for the first morning rush at the café. Bridget had gone home and Jasmine looked forward to a quick shower and a long nap when she reached the ranch. It hadn’t rained since before the Las Vegas trip, and she broke a sweat just going from café to truck. She looked forward to a long, lazy bath in the big claw-foot tub while the guys were all out of the house. Put on some Josh Turner music and sink down into a foot of bubbles and think about absolutely nothing. She needed a couple of hours to refuel after running out every ounce of emotional energy the past week.

  “Lord, has it only been a week? It seems like a month.” She talked to herself on the way to the gravel parking lot.

  The air conditioner in her little truck had barely cooled the cab down when she reached the ranch house. Normally, Ace’s two old Catahoula cow dogs were either out with him or else they’d meet her at the truck. That day they were lazed out on the porch, tails thumping on the wooden floor, but they didn’t offer to move out of the shade.

  “Too damn hot to work this afternoon, ain’t it?” Jasmine stopped long enough to pet them. She’d couldn’t tell them apart, but Ace said that Old Bill was fatter than Little Joe. She eyed the two dogs and they still looked like identical twins to her.

  “A set of bathroom scales would have trouble telling the difference in you two,” she said. “I bet he can’t tell the difference either. He just says that he can.”

  She didn’t stop in the living room but went straight to the bathroom, turned on the water in the big deep tub, and added vanilla-scented bubble bath. She was glad that whenever Ace’s grandfather remodeled the bathroom and put two sinks in the vanity and a shower in the corner that he’d left the tub. She stripped out of her jeans, Nikes, socks, and shirt and dropped them on the floor. She added panties and bra to the pile and sunk down into the water, letting the bubbles cover everything but her head.

  “A tub deep enough that the water covers boobs and knees. Either Gramps or Granny knew the way to a woman’s heart.” She rolled a towel to go under her neck and let the sloped back of the tub cradle her. With eyes shut, the warm water eased the tired tension from her muscles.

  Her eyes popped wide open. She had forgotten about Sam, Dexter, Buddy, and Tyson. Ace would have to put them in the wedding and that meant more bridesmaids. Unless they could serve as ushers.

  She laid back. That would work. They’d need at least four ushers and the guys could do that job. The only thing left was someone to sit at the registration desk… and that was on her shoulders.

  “I hate this,” she mumbled. “I’m asking Ellen and Nellie.”

  Your mother will pitch a fit, Granny Dale whispered softly. Two eighty-year-old women in her wedding. It ain’t happenin’, child.

  The only way she could get away with it would be to pull out the Cousin Candace card. She could hear the conversation playing in her head like an old radio soap opera.

  “But, Mother, I suppose Cousin Candace is…”

  That’s all she’d have to say.

  Kelly King would go off on a tirade that would scorch the hair out of Lucifer’s ears. “I will not have that hussy in your wedding. She’s a disgrace to the King name with her tattoo parlor down there in Dallas. God Almighty! Jasmine, what are you thinking about? Don’t you have another friend?”

  “Well, there are two sisters, Ellen and Nellie, but…”

  “Do either of them have tat sleeves or a nose ring?”

  “No, they do not have tats or piercings.”

  “Then Ellen and Nellie it is.”

  Jasmine opened her eyes and giggled. “And that’s the way it’s done.”

  “What’s done?” Ace was sitting on the vanity bench not three feet from her.

  Her knee-jerk reaction was to come straight up out of the water. Her second was to gather what bubbles were left into strategic places. It wasn’t until she reached the third that anger set in.

  “What in the hell are you doing in here? What are you even doing in the house at this time of day?” she asked.

  Ace shrugged. “Watching you sleep in the bathtub. You talk in your sleep. You said something about that being the way it’s done. Got a phone call. Came home early to get cleaned up, and when I came to the bathroom I found you. You are so damned cute I couldn’t make myself wake you up. Is the water still warm? Mind if I join you?”

  “No! Water is cold and I’m getting out. So turn around and shut your eyes while I get a towel around me.”

  “Wives aren’t supposed to be so skittish. I bet sex would be good in that tub with you all slippery wet,” he teased.

  She raised a hand out of the water and pointed at the wall.

  He shut his eyes tightly, but that didn’t stop him from picturing her leaving the tub with water sliding off her naked body, bubbles still hanging on her firm breasts and clinging to her butt. He heard her wet feet hit the floor and the towel snap open. He smelled the sweetness of vanilla. And the arousal started just like it had every single time Jasmine was anywhere near him. Ever since the wedding, that’s the way it had been. Before the wedding, he saw her every day without a problem. Now he just had to think her name and he got an instant erection.

  “You can open them now. I’m going to the bedroom and get dressed,” she said.

  The water gurgled as it swirled down the drain and the bathroom
door closed, but it didn’t take all of Jasmine with it. Her smell and the picture in Ace’s mind stayed behind as he turned on the shower. He tossed his dirty clothing on top of hers and wondered if that was an omen. Underwear, shirts, jeans, even socks all tangled up together; did that mean that his and Jasmine’s lives would be tangled up like that someday?

  As he washed the dirt and grime from his hair and body, he was thinking about what it would be like to share his entire life with Jasmine. He certainly didn’t expect to find her sitting fully clothed on a vanity seat when he threw the shower curtain back.

  “Need some bubbles?” she asked.

  His knee-jerk reaction was to grab the washcloth and cover his package. His second was to reach out and pull her into the shower with him. It took ten seconds to reach the third, which was laughter.

  “A towel will do fine, ma’am.”

  She handed him a towel and fought back the blush. It had sounded like a wonderful plan to get back at him when she was dressing in denim shorts, sandals, and a sleeveless cotton shirt. But it had backfired when he threw open the shower curtain and there stood a real, breathing, flesh and blood Greek god before her.

  Whoever was responsible for sculpting those statues sure hadn’t had Ace for a model; that much Jasmine could vouch for. Before they went to chiseling out the lower extremities of those statues they should have come on across the waters and found a blond-haired cowboy. That would have really made the ladies drool.

  Ace whipped the towel around his waist and stepped out onto the worn throw rug. “Guess I forgot to tell you about that phone call, didn’t I?”

  “Your mother or mine?”

  “Wil, actually. Pearl has been trying to call you for the past hour. No, make that an hour and a half now. Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Ace asked.

  Jasmine reached for her hip pocket, then checked the jeans on the floor. “Guess it fell out in the truck seat.”

  “Well, her water broke and she’s at the hospital and she says she isn’t calling her mother until you get there, because she can’t deal with Tess without you,” Ace said.