Taming a Texas Tease (Bad Boy Ranch Book 7)

by Katie Lane

  The tears fell again and Miss Gertie kept holding her hand and handing her tissues. The old woman seemed to have an endless supply up her sleeve. When Emma finally stopped crying, Miss Gertie released her hand, patted her on the shoulder, and got up. “I best be getting home before Reba misses me and sends out that bad boy husband of hers to find me.”

  Emma sniffed and got to her feet to walk Miss Gertie out. It was dark outside and the town had closed up for the night. “If you wait until I lock up, I’ll drive you home, Miss Gertie. I can call Jolene to come pick me up at the boardinghouse.”

  Miss Gertie flapped a hand. “You’ll do no such a thing. I’ve been driving ever since I was ten years old. I can handle driving a couple miles to the boardinghouse. Now put this walker in the back seat while I get in.” Emma did as she was told. Once she’d slammed the door, Miss Gertie backed out and took off down Main Street in a squeal of tires.

  Emma watched until the taillights faded into the night and then went back inside to lock up. She planned to stop by the boardinghouse and make sure Miss Gertie had gotten home safely. She had just stepped out the back door when headlights flashed in the alleyway. At first, she thought it was Miss Gertie. But as the vehicle drew closer, she realized it was Boone’s truck.

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away as he pulled into the space next to her Civic. He got out and she saw that he was still using the crutches. Which made her feel like crying even more.

  “Working late,” he said as he came around the front of the truck. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” Which was obviously why he’d come so late. He hadn’t wanted to see her.

  She forced a smile. “Actually, Miss Gertie stopped by and we got to talking and lost track of the time.”

  “She was probably looking for me. I’m making her something.”

  An awkward silence followed, and she searched for words to fill it. “So . . . what are you doing here?”

  “I’m working on my granddaddy’s place to get it ready to sell and I stopped by to get some paint for the barn.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “Canary yellow?”

  There was a second’s hesitation before he tipped back his head and laughed. In the alley light, she saw just a glimmer of the little boy he’d once been. The boy who had pedaled her around town on the handlebars of his bike, and shared his ice cream cone when she’d accidentally dropped hers on the pavement, and socked Greg Mather for tugging her braids. How had she forgotten that little boy? How had she let her pain blind her so badly?

  Miss Gertie was right. Hate had twisted Emma into an ugly, unrecognizable thing who had forgotten how to forgive. She might never be able to trust Boone with her heart, but she could trust him with her friendship. Deep down, she knew that. If they had been friends once, maybe they could be friends again.

  She bit back a smile and placed her hands on her hips. “I’m glad you think it’s funny, Boone Murphy, but it’s no joking matter. If I can’t unload those gallons of yellow paint I ordered, my bathroom is going to be canary yellow . . . and my living room, kitchen, and bedroom.”

  He stopped laughing, but a cocky grin remained on his face. “It will go good with the pink exterior.”

  She released her smile. “It will, won’t it? Or if I don’t want my house to look like it belongs on Sesame Street, I could just fess up to the fact that you were right. Barn Red is the best color for barns—thus the name.”

  In the shadow of his brown Stetson, she could see his eyes widened. “Did you just say I was right, Em?”

  “It happens . . . occasionally. What you aren’t right about is trying to paint your grandfather’s barn with a sprained ankle. You have no business climbing a ladder.”

  He looked down at his foot, still bootless and bandaged. “It’s not a big deal. It already feels a lot better. But you can help me get the paint into my truck.”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “I’m not helping you unless you promise you’ll get someone else to paint the barn. You have plenty of friends in this town who you’ve helped over the years. I’m sure they’ll be happy to return the favor.” She paused. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind.”

  Again he stared at her with surprise. “You want to help me paint my grandfather’s barn?”

  “Don’t act so shocked. I want you to get top dollar for it so you can loan me more money. And I’m a much better painter than you are. Just look at my house. It might be the brightest house in Simple, but the paint job is perfect.”

  He studied her for a moment before he shook his head. “Thanks, but I can paint the barn by myself. Just like I can get the paint by myself.” He started for the back door, but she stepped in front of him.

  “Sorry, but I’m afraid the store is closed.”

  He held up his keys. “I happen to be one of the owners.”

  “Not anymore you’re not. You gave me the store, remember? Or is your word no good?”

  He lowered his keys and glared at her. “This isn’t funny, Em. I need paint.”

  “And you’ll get it. I’ll deliver it out to your granddaddy’s first thing on Sunday morning.” She shrugged. “Unless, you want me to call Sheriff Dixie and tell her that Boone Murphy is trying to break into my hardware store.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but then just sighed. “You’re still the stubbornest woman in Simple, Texas, Emma Johansen.”

  She smiled. “Damn straight I am. And don’t you ever forget it, Boone Murphy.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Boone woke to Romeo’s howling. Since there was only one person who could get the dog to howl, Boone instantly opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. Sure enough, Emma stood at the end of his bed. She wore a faded t-shirt and a pair of short cut-off jeans with tattered hems. She’d fixed her hair into two braids that curled up at the ends like little j’s and a Texas Ranger baseball cap was pulled low on her forehead.

  But it wasn’t her hair or clothes that held his attention. It was the smile on her face. The kind of smile she used to give him before the fateful prom night. The kind that made his stomach feel weightless.

  For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. He’d been having a lot of Emma dreams lately. Probably because his subconscious was trying to get all the memories out of his system before he actually had to leave town. But he realized it wasn’t a dream when Emma reached out and scratched Romeo’s ears and the dog stopped howling.

  “So all this time, all it would’ve taken to shut you up was a little attention.” She glanced at Boone. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. We have some painting to do.”

  He sat up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was a little past eight o’clock in the morning. Since he didn’t have anything else to do with his days, he’d taken to sleeping in. He wasn’t ready to get up now. Or maybe what he wasn’t ready to do was spend a day with Emma. Leaving would be hard enough without making more memories to try to forget.

  “I told you I can do the painting by myself,” he said. “My ankle is fine now and I’ll have no trouble climbing a ladder.”

  She continued to scratch Romeo, but now on his big belly. The dog had rolled to his back, his short legs sticking up in the air and twitching with pleasure. “Sorry, but this is more about my guilt than your ankle. Helping you paint the barn is my way of making up for shoving you off the roof.”

  “I thought it was an accident.”

  “It was.”

  “Then there’s no need. I forgive you, Em.”

  She studied him, and her smile slipped. “You always were fast to forgive. And I was always the one who held a grudge forever. But this isn’t about you forgiving me as much as it’s about me forgiving myself. Now get your butt up, Boone Murphy.” She grabbed the blankets covering his lap and yanked them off.

  He made a grab for them, but it was too late. There he sat with an obvious morning boner tenting his boxers.

  “Dammit, Em!” He jumped up and grabbed his jeans off the chair and pulled them
on before he turned to her. “What are you doing here?”

  She continued to look at his package for a few seconds more before she lifted her gaze to his face. “I’m not going to let you paint that big barn by yourself, Boone. Cal and Cheyenne picked up the paint and have probably already started painting with the rest of the volunteers.”

  He stared at her. “The rest of the volunteers? What did you do, Emma Johansen?”

  She grinned. “Just asked for a little help. Of course, in Simple, when you ask for help, you always get more than you bargained for.”

  It turned out to be an understatement. When he and Emma arrived at his grandparents’ place, the entire area surrounding the house and barn was filled with trucks. Boone recognized each and every one. Except for Cal’s old truck, the rest belonged to the Double Diamond boys. Cru, Logan, Val, Lincoln, and Holden were all there—Sawyer was traveling on the rodeo circuit with Maisy—and so were the Double Diamond girls. While the men were setting up scaffolding around the barn, their wives were putting food out on his grandfather’s old picnic table. All of them, except Dixie and Evie, had babies strapped to their fronts in carriers. Evie and Logan’s toddler daughter was sitting on a blanket beneath a maple tree playing with toys.

  At the sight of all his friends, a huge lump formed in Boone’s throat. Once out of Emma’s car, he just stood there trying to find words while his friends stopped what they were doing and moved closer with big smiles on their faces. Damn, he was going to miss these good folks like hell when he left Simple.

  He cleared his throat. “Umm . . . well . . .” When he couldn’t get any more out, Emma took over.

  “I think your generosity has struck Boone speechless, y’all. Which is quite the feat. I’ve been trying to get the man to shut up for years.”

  Everyone laughed, and Boone relaxed enough to speak. “Thank y’all for coming out. I sure do appreciate the help.” He glanced at Emma. “And thank you, Em, for pulling it all together.”

  “I wouldn’t thank me just yet, Boone.” The devilish glint in her eyes alerted him about the time Cheyenne came around the edge of the barn with a paint roller. A paint roller covered in canary yellow paint.

  “Hey, Mr. Murphy and Miss Johansen. It’s about time you got here. Daddy and I almost got one entire side done. When we’re through, your barn is going to look like a great big burst of sunshine.”

  Boone turned to Emma. She must’ve read the look in his eyes because she held up her hands and backed away. “Now, Boone, that yellow is going to make this property sell all the faster. Who doesn’t love a big ol’ yellow ba—Boone Murphy, you put me down!” She squealed as he scooped her over his shoulder.

  “Nope. I’m going to do what you did to me, you conniving woman. I’m going to toss you off the roof of my big yellow barn.”

  He didn’t. He just tossed her into a pile of hay while everyone laughed—including Emma. It had been a long time since he’d seen that laughter. It might’ve made his day if he hadn’t know where it came from. Emma was finally happy . . . happy to be rid of him. That hurt like hell. But he had hidden his feelings this long. He could hide them a little longer.

  He held out his hand. “Come on, Em. Let’s get this barn painted.”

  Once he started painting, he decided to put the thought of leaving out of his mind and just enjoy the day. It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining and the humidity low. A couple hours in, he pulled off his shirt and enjoyed the heat on his skin. Emma painted on the same side of the barn as he did, and occasionally, he’d glance over and catch her looking at him. Finally, he couldn’t help asking.

  “What?”

  “Just checking to make sure you’re doing a good job,” she said before she went back to painting. She had flipped the ball cap backwards and looked even more like the tomboyish little girl he’d grown up with. Of course, her body was all woman. Her breasts pushed against the soft material of her t-shirt and her butt filled out the jean shorts to perfection. And then there were her legs. Emma had always had the best legs in town. Long, lean, and tan—

  “Okay, now what are you looking at?” Emma asked. “Did I get paint on my butt?”

  He lifted his gaze. “No, but you have some right here.” He reached out and brushed a swipe of paint across her cheek.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, that’s funny.” She ran her paint roller down his chest to his stomach. “Because you have some right here.”

  He glanced down at the big yellow rectangle. “So I do.” He pushed his cowboy hat back and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. “I guess I need to be a neater painter.”

  Her eyes twinkled with laughter. “I guess you do.”

  They both went back to painting with smiles on their faces.

  With all the help, they were finished with the barn by early afternoon. When Boone stood back to take a look, he had to admit that yellow wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. With the crossbars of the door painted white, the barn looked like a big happy sun sitting there smiling.

  Cru slapped him on the shoulder. “You do know you’re going to be the laughingstock of Simple County, right?”

  “Not me,” Boone said. “Whoever buys my grandparents’ property. Although now I’ve just cut down the prospective buyers by half.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Cal said. “This is a nice place that anyone would feel damn lucky to own no matter what color the barn is. We have some paint left. I say we paint the trim on the house to match the barn.”

  “You shouldn’t be spending your Sunday off painting my barn and house, Cal,” Boone said. “You should be spending it with Cheyenne doing something fun.”

  “In case you haven’t figured it out, Cheyenne is having fun.” Cal looked over at Cheyenne, who was helping Dixie and Reba fill glasses with lemonade and chattering up a storm. When he spoke again, Cal’s voice held a whole lot of sadness. “She misses having a woman around to talk to.”

  Logan placed a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “She has an entire town of women to talk to.”

  The other bad boys nodded in agreement and said how much their wives would love to spend time with Cheyenne, but Boone could tell Cal wasn’t buying it. And he was right. There was no replacement for a mother. Boone felt bad that he had held a grudge against his mom for so long. But he was trying to make amends for that.

  Since his parents had left town, he called his mom daily. Although he hadn’t told her about his sprained ankle or his decision to give up the store to Emma and leave town. His folks and the Johansens acted like they wanted Boone and Emma to go their separate ways, but Boone knew they were still hoping things would work out between their children. They’d be devastated to hear that Boone was moving away.

  “You know Cheyenne is always welcome at our house,” Lincoln said. “Dixie loves her like a little sister. Hell, she told Cheyenne she was pregnant before she told me.”

  “Dixie’s pregnant?” All the men said in unison.

  Lincoln got a big ol’ smile on his face. “I’m going to be joining the bad boy baby club in less than seven months.”

  There were congratulations and back thumping all around. Boone was happy for his friend, but couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Especially when he glanced over at the porch. Emma was sitting in his grandmother’s rocker holding Gray Sterling. The baby had fallen asleep and Emma was slowly rocking and staring down at the cherubic face of the sleeping child. The sight made Boone’s heart tighten, and for a moment he felt a little lightheaded.

  “You okay, Boone?” Cal asked. “You’re looking a little pale. Maybe you should go sit down and rest your ankle.”

  Boone pulled his gaze away from Emma and Gray. “No, I’m good. And I like your idea about painting the trim of the house to match the barn. If the barn looks like Big Bird, it only makes sense that the house look like his little chick.”

  Since the kids were getting fussy and Dixie needed to do her patrol, the Double Diamond boys didn’t stay to paint the house. After they
helped Boone take down the scaffolding, they loaded their families into their trucks while Boone thanked them profusely for all their help. Once they were gone, Boone headed into the barn to get another can of paint so he could join Emma, Cal, and Cheyenne who had already started painting the trim of the house.

  Every time he stepped into the barn, Boone was reminded of all the hours he’d spent there with his grandfather. Feeding horses, mucking out stalls, and learning how to work with wood. His grandfather had taught Boone everything he knew about woodworking. Together, they had made tables and benches and porch swings. During those hours, his grandfather hadn’t just shaped wood. He’d shaped Boone. It was hard to think of the barn belonging to someone else. Or the house where Boone had spent so many summers and holidays. How could he get rid of his grandparents’ brass bed or his grandmother’s pie safe? Or their rocking chairs? And yet, what would he do with them when he didn’t even know where he was going to live?

  Maybe he would give them to Emma. She loved old things. And she’d loved his grandparents as her own.

  “Did your grandpa have horses?”

  Cheyenne’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see her standing in the doorway of the barn. She was covered in more yellow paint than he was and looking extremely happy.

  “He had lots of horses over the years,” Boone said. “But only two when he died. Scats, who is scared of his own shadow, and Trudy, who’s a good old gal.”

  Cheyenne moved into the barn. “What happened to them?”

  “I sold them to the Gardener ranch.” It had been a sad day, but he couldn’t keep them when he lived in town.

  “I’m sorry about your grandpa.”

  “Thank you, but he lived a full, happy life and was ready to go be with my grandmother.” He picked up a can of paint. “Now I better go help with that trim or your daddy and Emma will think I’m a slacker.” Before he could take more than a few steps toward the door, she stopped him.

  “What happened between you and Emma?”