Texas Rose Forever (Texas Rose Ranch #1) (2 page)

“Hold on . . . she’s not a stripper?” He looked from CanDee to his mother and back again. “Your name really is CanDee McCain?”

“I’m too short to smack him on the back of the head.” Dr. Rose let out a long, labored breath. “Can you please do it for me?”

CanDee shrugged. He did have it coming. She walked over to him, took out her notepad, used it to smack him hard on the back of the head, and stepped beside Dr. Rose.

“Ouch.” Cinco rubbed the back of his head. “That hurt.”

“You deserve so much worse. What were you thinking, Lacy Kendall Lehman Rose V? You better get on your knees and beg her to stay.” Dr. Rose’s eyes turned mean.

Cinco looked like a caged animal. The blood-red flush that had started at his collar was now working its way up his face. She had never seen a grown man blush. It was both charming and grotesque.

Dr. Rose stabbed her index finger in his direction. “You will apologize right now. You’ve humiliated her and me.”

“It’s okay, Dr. Rose.” CanDee bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing, but laughter slipped out anyway. She couldn’t help it. His look of drop-jawed bewilderment combined with the glow of the blush on his face made him look like one of those Christmas nutcrackers minus the coat and tails. She turned back to the hundreds on the floor, bent down and scooped them up, folded them in half, and tucked them in the waistband of his Wranglers. “Thanks for the dance. What you lacked in rhythm, you certainly made up for in creativity.”

Silence crackled through the small building.

“I like you.” Dr. Rose laughed. “Call me Lucy.”

“Okay, call me CanDee.”

“Whew.” A bleach blonde with obviously surgically enhanced cantaloupe-sized breasts ran in on ten-inch-tall hooker heels. “Sorry I’m late. I got so lost.”

It was amazing that she kept herself upright, considering the size of her chest and the thinness of those heels. She defied the laws of physics. It was interesting to watch.

“Just give me a minute to set up.” She hitched a pink duffle bag off her shoulder and dumped it on the chair. Several things inside the bag clanked against each other. She unzipped the bag and pulled out swords of different lengths.

Lucy crossed her arms. “In my mind, I’m running through different scenarios where swords would be involved, but I can’t come up with one that makes sense . . . Well, I can, but it’s disgusting and painful.”

“I’m a sword-swallowing contortionist. That adds a little extra something when I strip.” She flashed her electric-white teeth. “I didn’t know this was a mixed party. It’s okay. I like girls too.”

She winked at Lucy.

CanDee turned to Cinco. “See, your brothers didn’t let you down this year. They got you a bisexual sword-swallowing contortionist. That beats the little-person acrobat from last year.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Have fun.”

Lucy linked her arm in CanDee’s and they walked out the door. CanDee had never met a stranger family. Maybe the next six weeks weren’t going to be nearly as boring as she’d thought.

CHAPTER 2

How exactly did a man apologize for confusing a total stranger with a stripper? Cinco Rose picked another bluebonnet to add to the bunch he’d gathered on his way to the cottage. Flowers were a good start, and there would probably be some groveling.

Normally, he didn’t grovel, but CanDee McCain was owed some. It had been an honest mistake, but he felt bad . . . really bad. In fact, he was missing his birthday party just to come apologize. That had to count for something.

He picked some firewheels and a couple of blackfoot daisies and added them to the ever-growing bouquet. CanDee was a looker. A fiery redhead with huge golden-brown eyes and a full bottom lip that was ripe for sucking. It was a wonder his eyes had made it off her face long enough to take in her body. She had a nice one, legs up to her armpits, but it was her face that kept popping into his head.

And her laugh. She had a nice laugh—full and genuine.

CanDee had spirit. He’d give her that. She should have decked him, but she’d only laughed. He liked a good sense of humor.

Now that his bouquet was so large that he had to hold it with both hands, he felt stupid for having picked them. Wildflowers were hokey. She was a city girl. He looked down at them. This was a bad idea.

“Are those for me?” CanDee sat on the porch swing right outside of the cabin where she was staying. He’d been so focused on the flowers that he hadn’t seen her. “Or is a love of wildflowers just another indicator of your complex personality?”

She wore a silky dress the color of ripe peaches, which came mid-thigh because she was seated, showcasing her mile-long legs. Her coppery hair curled around her shoulders.

“For you.” He stood in front of her and extended his hands. “By way of an apology.”

She tilted her head to the left. “Did your mother put you up to this?”

“No, ma’am. The flowers are all me.” He felt like a fool standing there holding a giant bouquet of wildflowers.

Slowly, she stood and took the flowers. “Tell me, is the charm part of the whole aw-shucks-ma’am cowboy thing you’ve got going on or is it real?”

Was he being charming? No one had ever accused him of being
charming—surly, yes, but never charming.

She brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled. “They smell wonderful. Bluebonnets are my favorites.”

It was crazy to be this happy at having made her smile, but here he was, probably wearing a stupid grin. He needed to get out more and start dating. It was past time. His divorce had been final for more than five years. Several women in town had showed interest, but none of them seemed as much fun as standing here and staring at CanDee McCain.

“Can you get the door?” She nodded to the closed front door. “My hands are full.”

Manners, crap. He’d forgotten his.

He opened the door and stepped aside to let her in first. “I’m sure that my mother told you, this was the first house built on the ranch. Lacy Lehman built it for Brunhilda after she got tired of living in the dugout. When Prudence Lehman married Carlton Rose they lived here for a while until he built her the big house.”

He’d always loved the cabin. It was one giant room with a huge, round wood-burning stove in the center. Over the years, the stove had been converted to a fireplace, a bathroom was added off to the side, and everything had been updated with electricity and modern appliances, but it still held the spirit of the old place.

“Dugout?” CanDee glanced over her shoulder at him. “Like dug-out-of-the-ground dugout?”

“Yes, ma’am. It was three rooms and quite cozy, from what I’ve heard. I seem to remember there’s a box of letters and old newspaper clippings around here somewhere that talks about it. I think there’s even a picture taken right before it caved in.” He followed her into the kitchen alcove.

She pulled out a plastic pitcher from under the sink, tucked the flowers inside, and filled it with water.

“How charming. A photograph right before it caved in.” She shook her head. “No wonder Brunhilda looks so angry in that tintype with her husband. He’d probably just told her about his grand plan to build her a dugout. She must have loved Lacy a lot. People do strange things for love. Personally, I draw the line at dugouts. It must be impossible to keep the floor clean with it being made of dirt and all.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what crazy thing she’d done for love, but he didn’t know her that well. That he wanted to know her that well struck him as odd. She was easy to talk to, which he didn’t find most of the time in women—or men, for that matter. It wasn’t that he was shy, it was just he didn’t have much to say.

“Then again, maybe it wasn’t love. Don’t take this the wrong way, but your however-many-times-great-grandmother was not a handsome woman. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that she’s the single ugliest person that I’ve ever seen. I’m guessing that men weren’t lining up to marry her.” She leaned against the counter next to the sink. “Come to think of it, was Lacy a sighted man? Apart from a mustache that was the size of a small dog, he wasn’t half bad looking. Maybe Brunhilda was from a really wealthy family or like you said, she made spectacular peach preserves.”

Laughter made his chest shake. “Are you always like this?”

“What?” Her eyebrows arched.

“Saying what you’re thinking . . . always looking for the motivation behind things.” With the exception of his mother, women rarely said what was truly on their minds. At least Naomi, his ex-wife, hadn’t. She’d professed all her love while screwing his best friend . . . and that hadn’t come close to the worst thing that she’d done.

She shrugged. “I guess. I’ve never really thought about it. I’m a writer. Motivation is everything.”

“Really? What’s my motivation for missing my party to come here?” He liked her. True, she said the most bizarre things, but at least they were never stupid, only clever.

Her eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Let me see.” She tapped her right index finger against her closed lips. “Off the top of my head, I can think of three reasons. The first and most obvious is that your mom probably threatened you with bodily harm unless you came over and made things right.”

She shook her head. “But I don’t think that’s your primary motivation. I don’t know you that well, but based on the whole noble-cowboy
thing you’ve got going on, you couldn’t stand the idea of offending a lady.”

She’d nailed it. He’d known CanDee three whole hours and she already
knew him better than his ex-wife ever did. “What’s the third thing?”

She smiled mischievously. Whatever lipstick she’d used made her lips look like shiny ripe peaches. “You want to find out if I secretly videotaped you dancing and if so, if I’ve posted it on YouTube. I’m betting you’re prepared to kill me and hide my body in that caved-in dugout if I don’t turn over the video.”

“Are you kidding?” He matched her grin. “I’d have to dig out the dugout. That’s too much work. I thought about strapping some concrete blocks to your ankles and throwing you in the quarry lake.”

“That’s pretty good, but you forgot one small detail.” She walked over to the kitchen table, which was littered with papers. She riffled around in the papers until she came up with something that looked like a brochure. “Scuba divers come from all around to dive your clear-watered quarry lake. They’d find me in a heartbeat.”

Were they really standing here discussing the ways he’d get rid of her body? Strangest conversation ever. “Okay, what if I throw your body into the stump grinder and then feed you to the hogs?”

Yep, strangest conversation ever. “Oh.” Her face lit up. “That’s good. Can pigs really eat bones?”

He nodded once. “I’ve seen them chew through a deer’s leg bone like it was nothing more than a handful of pecans.”

She picked up a legal pad from the table and shuffled some more papers until she found a pen. “I’m writing a mystery. Okay if I use that?”

She mashed her lips together like she hadn’t meant to say that. She had nothing to fear—his mother wouldn’t care if she wrote another book on her own time. Based on the amount of papers scattered on the table, she’d already started on the genealogy.

“Help yourself.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. Was it inappropriate to ask out a woman whose gruesome murder he’d just planned? “I don’t suppose you’d like to go to a birthday party?”

“Your mom already invited me. I was headed that way when I saw you walking across the yard.” She walked to the door and leaned down to pick up a pair of brown super-high-heeled shoes. She held them instead of putting them on. “I decided to stick around to see what kind of apology you’d come up with. At first when I saw you picking wildflowers, I thought you were dancing again. I’m not going to lie, it was scary.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a terrific dancer.” He ruined his indignation with a laugh.

“Do a lot of dancing at the Texas School for the Blind, do you?” She grinned up at him. He had a strong urge to kiss her . . . just a taste, but she pulled the door open and the moment was gone.

“Are you coming?” She stepped through the open doorway. “I’m sure everyone is wondering where the birthday boy is.”

He glanced down at her bare feet. Tiny little Texas flags were painted on her toenails. “Aren’t you going to put on your shoes?”

“Not until we get there.” She waited for him to shut the door.

“Why?” He pointed to the shoes. “You’ve got shoes.”

She hunched her shoulders. “They hurt my feet.”

“So wear different ones.” In his experience, women liked to complicate simple situations.

“These are the only shoes that match my dress and they make my legs look fantastic.” The
duh
in her voice was implied.

“You have some pretty nice legs, you don’t need shoes to make them look good.” If his gaze lingered on her legs, it wasn’t his fault. She’d brought them up.

He offered her his elbow as they walked across the yard to the main house.

“Yes, but these shoes take them to the next level.” She took his elbow.

She smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla. A strand of her hair curled around his shoulder.

“Here I go, thinking that you’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met, and then you go and wear shoes that hurt your feet. That just knocked you back down to average. I hate to do it.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately the shoes thing is average and a cool girl would have worn ugly but comfortable shoes.”

She put her hand over her heart. “Average . . . me?” She hip-bumped him. “You’re going to eat those words when you see me in these shoes. FYI, you’re probably going to have to carry me home because I’ll be crippled, but it’ll be worth it.”

“I doubt it.” He glanced down at the shoes. “They’re pretty average.”

“Since your opinion of me has fallen so low, I have a confession to make.” She was all seriousness. “I’m just working as a writer until my stripper career takes off.”

“You could have fooled me.” Screw the party, he just wanted to hang out with her. He couldn’t imagine that the party would be any more fun than he was having with her.

“I was a little intimidated by the bisexual sword swallower.” She sighed long and hard. “It appears that you Rose men only hire the best. I’m going to have to step up my game.”

“I look forward to it.” He couldn’t wait to hear what would come out of her mouth next.

“I’m thinking something with flaming batons, or maybe a mime.” She nodded like mime was the way to go.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but they got me a mime year before last.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t nearly as exciting as you’d think.”

“What about magic tricks?” She waved her hand in the air. “I yell
abracadabra
and then my clothes disappear.”

“If would be neat if they appeared on someone in the audience,” he added to be helpful.

“That’s a good idea.” She nodded. “I’m thinking of starting small. Thought I’d work a couple of the VFW halls to cut my teeth and then move on to bigger venues like the Elks Lodges or maybe the Freemasons.”

“Sounds like a great business plan. Who knows? In a couple of years, you might even work up to bachelor parties.”

“I don’t know. That’s brass-ring territory, but I plan on keeping my eye on the prize.” She transferred her shoes to her other hand. Her left breast grazed his upper arm.

His gaze went to her face; she didn’t seem to notice the contact.

“I like ambition in a woman.” His arm tingled from the accidental boob-graze.

“You gotta have goals.”

They reached the front porch of the main house. Using his shoulder for stability, she slipped on her shoes. She walked up the steps and turned around and modeled for him.

“What do you think?” She walked seductively back and forth.

“Stretch, you’ve got legs all the way up to your earlobes.” He sucked on his top lip. “I take back everything I said about those shoes.”

“So you’re a leg man.” She turned around and threw him a saucy smile.

“I am now.” He’d never met anyone who put him more at ease than CanDee. She didn’t take things too seriously and she made him laugh more than he had in the last five years. All of a sudden, he had a powerful need to tell her everything he knew about the Texas Rose Ranch. Hell, he might even make up some stuff just so he could spend more time with her.