Going Cowboy Crazy (33 page)

“Did you ever get to Mexico?” she asked after a while.

“Nope.” Slate shook his head. “But I’ve got the plane ticket.” Except now, he didn’t plan on using it. Pretty blue eyes had replaced his desire for warm sandy beaches.

“Then how about tonight?”

He blinked, and his head came up. “Tonight?”

Her voice rose with excitement. “Why not? We could be cooling our toes in the ocean by the time the sun comes up.”

After the weird way she’d been acting, he knew she wasn’t kidding. But he still treated it like a joke. “And miss next week’s game when I finally got me a quarterback? Not a chance.”

Hope didn’t laugh. She just turned and looked back out the window as the seconds blended into minutes. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I do love you, you know?”

The confession brought with it a deep sadness for the distance that now separated them much more than just mile markers on a highway. Five years had taken the innocence from their relationship and replaced it with the cold reality of life. He mourned its passing as he reached out and stroked the back of her head.

“Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”

“But not enough to marry me.”

“It’s not about being enough. Our love is the friendship kind, not the marriage kind.”

“It could be. Sometimes the best marriages are between friends.”

He ran his fingers down through her hair. “What happened to the Hope who told me I kissed worse than Buster?”

She laughed and glanced over at him. “I was hoping you’d improved while I was away.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Are you saying I haven’t?” The sassy smirk she shot him was 100 percent Hope and made him feel a whole lot better. “Now there’s the Hope I remember.”

The smile faded. “So I guess your love for her is the marriage kind?”

It was funny, but he hadn’t thought about marriage to Faith. His mind had been too consumed with other things—like convincing her to stay. But now that Hope brought it up, he took a moment to consider it. Of course, it was crazy.

People didn’t get married after only a few weeks of knowing each other. Marriage was a lifetime commitment.

He blinked as the images of a lifetime spent with Faith unfurled like Bubba’s flags in a stiff Texas breeze. A lifetime of waking up next to a woman as beautiful as a Texas sunset. A lifetime of kissing pink glittery lips or spooning against a soft, warm body. A lifetime of cute little dark-haired girls and ornery little blond-headed boys.

A lifetime of happily ever after.

A smile split his face.

“What are you grinnin’ about, Slate Calhoun?” Hope asked.

“We need to get back.” He sat up and buckled his seat belt.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Like the stubborn woman she was, Hope crossed her arms over her chest and refused to budge.

But Slate wasn’t about to put up with any more temper tantrums from Hope. He was sorry Hollywood hadn’t worked out for her, but he had his own happiness to consider. Happiness he wanted to get back to. He was out of the truck and had Hope’s door open before she could do more than blink.

“I told you I’m not ready.”

“Then you better get that way.” He shoved her across the seat so he could take the driver’s side.

She ranted and raved, but it didn’t faze him—Hope had always had a bad temper. What did faze him was the noise the truck made when he turned the key. It rolled over, but refused to start.

“Ooops,” Hope said, her anger completely gone. “I guess I should’ve gotten gas before we left town.”

Unwilling to accept defeat, Slate tried over and over again to get the stupid truck started. Unfortunately, it was no use. The truck appeared to be as stubborn as Hope was. Which meant they would have to call someone. Someone who would have no problem relaying the information to the entire town of Bramble.

But he didn’t care about the entire town.

He only cared about the petite blue-eyed woman he planned to marry.

If she ever forgave him.

F
AITH SAT IN THE DARK ON
J
ENNA
and Burl’s sofa, waiting for a flash of headlights to pierce the green sheers that covered the front window. She’d been waiting for a long time. Long enough to replay the scene in the bar at least a thousand times. And long enough to let her imagination run wild with one sexual scenario after another—Slate and Hope passionately entwined in Bubba’s truck at Sutter Springs, in the locker room showers, on the couch in Slate’s office, beneath the sheets of Bubba’s bed, even on Jenna’s front porch swing.

For the umpteenth time, she got up and peeked out the window, but there was no one in the swing and no truck parked out in front. The moonlit yard looked the same as it did when she’d arrived home with her parents. Except now her Volvo was parked behind Jenna’s Cadillac. Tyler had towed it out soon after they’d gotten home. Faith now had her car and her suitcases. What she didn’t have was her boyfriend.

The trade-off didn’t seem like a good one. She would gladly give up her car and her suitcases to be snuggled
up against Slate on the porch swing. Unfortunately, Slate had someone else to snuggle up against now. Someone who was prettier. And cleverer. And sexier. Someone he’d asked to marry him a hundred times.

A few hours ago, a hundred had seemed like an exaggerated number. But not now. Not after three hours without a word. Now it didn’t seem exaggerated at all. Especially when a truck finally pulled into the driveway and only one person got out.

A very petite cowgirl with a very cocky strut.

Faith released the curtain and stepped back from the window just as the front door opened and Hope stepped over the threshold. Moonlight gilded her long dark hair, and all Faith could think about was yanking it out by the roots and turning it into a Joni Tail. It would make at least two. Or she could keep it in one long strand to strangle her sister with.

Unaware of her twin sister standing in the dark, Hope didn’t waste any time heading toward the bedroom—the same bedroom Faith had been sleeping in. And Faith didn’t hesitate to follow her; she might not have enough courage to attack her, but she had enough anger to confront her. By the time she reached the room, the light was on, and Hope was rummaging through the top dresser drawer. She was so involved in her search that it took a while for her to glance up.

“Shit!” Hope jumped, and her hand bumped the dresser, causing the numerous golden pig trophies to wobble.

An apology almost slipped out of Faith’s mouth, but she bit it back as she stepped farther into the room. “So I guess Slate failed to mention I was staying here.”

Recovering quickly, Hope crossed her arms and sent Faith a sassy smirk. “It must’ve slipped his mind.”

Slipped his mind? Faith wondered what else had slipped his mind. Like maybe Hope having a twin sister whom he’d just had sex with in the boys’ locker room showers. Or the fact that he’d promised to come back and explain things to that same sister. She gritted her teeth as her eyes narrowed. But the look didn’t seem to intimidate Hope. She only tipped her head and shrugged.

“You got a problem?”

“No.” The wimpy lie just popped out.

“Good. Because I’ve known him a lot longer than you have.” She waved a hand at the pictures that covered the walls.

After spending five nights in the room, Faith was familiar with each and every one. It had been hard enough looking at the happy couple when she’d been alone; with her sister standing there smirking, it was extremely painful. Each photo of Slate and Hope—football hero and cheerleader, prom king and queen, graduating seniors—seemed to taunt Faith. And if there had been a Sharpie close by, the grinning faces would be nothing more than black blobs.

With devil horns.

As if she could read Faith’s thoughts, Hope’s smile got even bigger. “As you can see, Slate and I are close.” She toed off first one boot and then the other, a skill Faith still couldn’t accomplish.

“So close you haven’t seen each other for over a year.” The great comeback had Faith smiling her own smirky smile as her sister’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, I’m back now, sis. So you might as well hit the road, because Slate is mine.” With a flick, she tossed her cowboy hat in the corner where it landed on the head of the giant stuffed purple bulldog.

It was hard to stand up to such confidence, especially for a wimp. But this was one battle Faith couldn’t lose. Not when the outcome would mean a life without Slate.

“I’m not going anywhere. Especially since Slate has already chosen me.”

With a snap that caused Faith to jump, Hope jerked her belt out of the loops. “Well, if that’s so, then why did he spend the last few hours with me… at Sutter Springs?”

“Sutter Springs?” Faith squeaked. She felt like bursting into tears. And she might’ve if her sister hadn’t turned so smug.

“And I have to say, Slate is still the best kisser this side of the Rio Grande.”

Faith wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but suddenly one of the throw pillows from the bed went sailing through the air and smacked Hope right in the face before it dropped to the floor at the toes of her hot pink socks.

The shocked look was quickly followed by a mean one. “Did you just hit me with a pillow?”

Faith’s dropped jaw closed with a snap, but she refused to state the obvious. With a sizzling glint, Hope leaned down and grabbed the pillow. Faith braced herself. But instead of immediate retaliation, Hope walked to the door and closed it before turning back around.

“Why, you little fraud.” Hope threw the pillow so hard it hit with a smack that poofed Faith’s hair out. “You think you can just waltz in here and take over my life?”

“I didn’t take over your life!” Faith jerked up the pillow and flung it back. But Hope easily dodged it, and it sailed into the dresser, knocking over two pig trophies.

“I don’t know what you’d call it.” Her sister grabbed the pillow. But instead of throwing it, she came at Faith.
“You’ve taken my room.” Smack. “My family.” Smack. “My boyfriend.” Smack. “And my clothes.” She smacked Faith right in the Mickey Mouse nightshirt she had borrowed from the top dresser drawer, knocking her down to the mattress. But anger made Faith a little more agile, and she bounced back up with a big pillow in hand.

“I didn’t take your nightshirt. I borrowed it.” She whipped the pillow around and hit Hope in the head. It was a pretty good blow. Hope must’ve thought so too because she stumbled back a step, and her eyes widened. But her surprise didn’t last long.

“Well, I want it back!” She thumped Faith in the stomach, then whacked her over the head repeatedly. Obviously, a smaller pillow gave you an advantage. Still, Faith wasn’t about to give up. She clocked her sister in the side while Hope continued to rant and swing her pillow with twice the accuracy. “And while you’re at it you can give back the other things you took! Like my family! My room! And my boyfriend!”

“He wasn’t your boyfriend!” Faith tried to regain her balance from a blow to the back of the head just as Burl knocked on the door.

“Girls? You okay in there?”

“Fine,” Hope called as she sent Faith a warning look. “We were just going to bed.”

“Oh… well… your mama and I were thinking you might want to talk.”

Dropping the pillow, Hope pointed to the lamp. “I’m pretty tired, Daddy.”

There was another pause. “Faith, you okay?”

“Fine.” She sat down on the bed and clicked off the light. Once the room went dark, her father conceded.

“Well, good night then.”

“Good night, Daddy.”

“Good night, Burl.”

They listened as he moved back down the hallway.

“Why don’t you want to talk with them?” Faith asked once he was gone.

Hope walked over to the dresser. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m still a little pissed.” She pulled out the bottom drawer and rifled through it until she found what she’d been looking for. “How come you aren’t? After all, you were the one they gave away.”

In the moonlight that streamed in through the window, Faith watched as she undressed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that their bodies were as identical as their faces, but it was.

“I was pretty upset at first,” Faith said. “But after talking with both of them, I realized they made the decision that seemed right to them at the time.”

“Great. I have a logical-thinking wuss for a sister.” Hope slipped the large shirt over her head and headed for the bathroom. In the moonlight, the purple letters and numbers on the back stood out like a billboard.

Calhoun 12.

The pillow Faith threw missed Hope completely. But it did knock a picture off the wall. Unfortunately, it was one of Hope with Shirlene, not Slate.

Flopping back on the bed, Faith stared up at the popcorn ceiling. The pillow fight had taken most of her anger. Now she just felt hurt. All the time she’d been conjuring up images of Slate and Hope together, a part of her had completely trusted him. A part that believed he would return to her and explain everything. And what was even
crazier is that she still wanted to trust him. To believe that Hope had lied, and there was a logical explanation for why he hadn’t come back. An explanation that had nothing to do with him realizing that he’d chosen the wrong sister.