Texas Rose Forever (Texas Rose Ranch #1) (5 page)

“I didn’t say that she didn’t marry . . . she was a lesbian. Her partner’s name was Edith Grover. They did get married . . . sort of.” He sounded matter-of-fact.

“I bet that was hard for the family to handle back in the day.” Even now, she wasn’t sure that it was easy for a family to handle.

“Not really. Back then homosexuality was called ‘mutual solace.’ I’m told that Great-Great-Aunt Mel—short for Mellifluous—was a much better businessman and a way better shot than her three brothers. She ran the ranch while Edith took care of the house. Mel threatened to shoot her brothers if they interfered in the cattle business. I never met her, but I think I would have liked her.” She could tell he was proud of his family and would be a great resource for the genealogy. Picking his brain was going to be so much fun.

“I wish I’d remembered to bring my legal pad. I need to jot down these facts so I can research them.” It wasn’t that she was absent minded, it was only that she forgot things.

“I believe that you’ll find their marriage certificate in the family museum. It used to hang on the wall, but I think the frame broke, so I’m not sure where it is.”

“How were Mel and Edith able to get married?” Gay marriage had just become legal.

“I believe that I mentioned Mel was good with a gun.” He laughed. “Apparently, Edith refused to live in sin, so they were married. Edith took the Rose last name. It was all very official.”

“Wow. Your family history is way more interesting than I’d thought it would be.” She was itching to dig into the research. When it came to research, she was a demon. That’s why
Murder, Mayhem, and Madness
had been such a runaway hit. She’d left no Internet stone unturned and had taken several trips to remote Texas towns to get the feel just right. It might have been fiction, but it was factually accurate fiction. Too bad her ex, Phillip, was the one raking in the cash from her labor of love.

“Just on my father’s side. My mother’s side is pretty boring. They’re all doctors . . . every single one of them.” He turned the corner and a huge three-story Victorian house came into view. An outdoor light illuminated the huge wraparound porch and lots of white frilly carpentry, but the most intriguing part of the house was the bubble-gum-pink exterior.

She turned to Cinco. “You are a man of mystery and great confidence. I can’t imagine living in a pink house is easy out here amongst all of these cowboys.”

“Edith liked a lot of froth. In her will, she stipulated that the outside of the house and barn should remain pink or she’d haunt whoever lived here.” He pulled around the front of the house to the huge matching pink barn. “It’s common knowledge that Mel hated the pink and threatened to change it as soon as Edith died.”

“Did she?” She took in the white trim. The house reminded her of scoops of strawberry ice cream.

“No, she died a couple of months after Edith.”

CanDee put her hand over her heart. “That’s so sad. She died of a broken heart.”

“Nope. Lung cancer. She smoked something like fifty hand-rolled, unfiltered cigarettes a day. It was amazing she lived as long as she did.” He set the brake, turned off the ignition, and came around to offer his hand to CanDee.

She took it. “I keep trying to make her out to be a romantic and she keeps shutting me down.”

“I’m pretty sure romantic was the exact opposite of Mel, but I could be wrong. Maybe you’ll unearth some notebook of her love poetry, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” He led her to the side of the barn where a lean-to housed a brand-new fancy pick-’em-up truck, a four wheeler, a motorcycle up on blocks, and an old metal Coke machine that appeared to be in the middle of a restoration. So he was a fixer-upper. As Cinco revealed new facets of his personality, she was able to place another piece of the puzzle. She loved figuring out puzzles, and he was an especially intriguing one.

Her grandmother was also a fixer-upper; unfortunately, she also wasn’t much of a finisher, so half-finished projects cluttered her house, garage, and backyard. Hopefully, Cinco was not only a fixer-upper, but was strong out of the gate and gave it his all until the job was done.

“Do I get to see the inside of your pink house?” She was ready to jump into his life with both feet and see what made him tick, which had the potential to be another in a bad series of decisions when it came to men. Hadn’t she talked herself into taking things slowly?

“Another time, Stretch. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow and I’m afraid you’d run away screaming if I took you in there now.” He opened the passenger-side door of his truck for her.

She noticed the logo as she climbed up. “This is the Texas Rose
Edition. I didn’t know y’all had moved into leather interior too.” The King
Ranch had been providing quality leather products for Ford trucks for years. Now it seemed that the Texas Rose was doing the same for Chevy.

“It’s another revenue stream. Chevy came to us wanting something to compete with the King Ranch Edition. I was more than happy to sell them some leather.” He closed her door and walked around the hood of the truck, opened his door, climbed up, and closed it. He started the truck and backed out.

It just occurred to her. “Why do I get the feeling that you spend more time on the business side of things than you do with the cows?”

“It’s true, unfortunately. Long days in the saddle are getting fewer and fewer.” He sounded sad.

“Wait a minute.” She turned to him. “Shouldn’t you be at your birthday party?”

“I’m sure it’ll still be going strong when I get there.” He pressed his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose.

She got the distinct impression that he was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

“We don’t have to do this tonight. Sounds like you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you take me back to the cabin?” It was his birthday, he should be able to do whatever he wanted. “You sound tired.”

“I am. Did I say that long days in the saddle were few and far between . . . well, except for today. I’ve been up since four this morning.” He sighed long and hard.

“That’s just crazy talk.” She pulled an Oreo out of the bag and munched on it. “I’m pretty sure that serial killers and drunk frat boys are the only people up at four.”

“I love the random bizarre things that come out of your mouth.” He pulled onto a wide dirt road.

She had to admit that made her heart go pitter-patter. Phillip had
hated her chattiness and oddball sense of humor. He’d done a lot of eye roll
ing every time she’d opened her mouth, so she’d learned to bite her tongue.
It said a lot about their relationship that she couldn’t be herself around him.
If only she’d noticed it before he’d run off with her debut novel.

“You look tired. It’s okay to do this another time. Looks like you need to go to bed.” It was a shame. She liked his company and wasn’t eager for the night to end.

“Always trying to get me into bed.” He grinned. “You have a one-track mind.”

“A girl shows a little concern and your mind goes to the gutter.” She watched his face turn red. He was so much fun.

“Um . . . I didn’t mean . . . to . . . you know.”

“You’re such an easy target,” she teased as she unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face him. She had her back to the door.

“Put your seat belt back on. Buckle up, it’s the law.”

Was he kidding? Was he worried about her or was he a staunch rule follower? He didn’t strike her as a total conformist, so she couldn’t help the smile. Aside from her grandmother, no one had shown concern for her in a long time.

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any cops on the ranch. Besides, you’re going maybe four miles an hour down a road you could probably navigate blindfolded. I’ll take my chances.”

She pulled one of her legs up, straightened it so that it was almost in his face, and pointed her toes. “You wanted to know how the toe-sucking happened.”

With her shoe, she tapped him on the shoulder.

“You are limber.” A slow smiled worked its way across his face. “Nice.”

“Yoga. You should try it.” She reached over and patted his thigh. “Work out those tight muscles.”

Then again, Phillip had tried yoga and the yoga instructor.

“Yoga’s too girlie. Nope, horseback riding is all the exercise I need.”

“This from a man who lives in a pink house and probably listens to Taylor Swift?” Her shoulders shook with laughter. “If you have enough man points to cover that, yoga is nothing.”

“I don’t know why haters gotta hate.” He shook his head. “Maybe you should ‘Shake It Off.
’
”

“I never thought I’d hear a grown man quoting Taylor Swift.” She hunched one shoulder. “It’s not as frightening as I’d thought it would be.”

She leaned over and hit the power button on the radio. Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” roared out. She switched it off and laughed so hard her eyes watered.

“What?”

“I’m just picturing you at a Katy Perry concert in the front row, dancing to the songs.” She patted his thigh again. “It’s just so darn cute.”

He picked up an Oreo and shoved it in her mouth. “Chew on this for a while.”

So he was sensitive about his music. She chewed on the Oreo and then swallowed.

“Now, it’s your turn.” She fed him one.

He chewed and chewed and chewed. Finally, he swallowed. “It’s just too much stuff.”

He picked up another one and popped it into his mouth. He chewed and chewed and chewed. “Yep, too much stuff.”

“Are you kidding? There’s never enough stuff. That’s like saying, ‘Gosh, I have too much money.
’
” She popped one into her own mouth. The stuff-to-cookie ratio was perfect. Come to think of it, he probably did have too much money. Given her history, that would be a switch, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. According to Phillip, money was all she’d had to offer, but since he was a narcissistic asshole, his opinion was right up there with tonsils or pantyhose in the usefulness department. A person didn’t need them, so what was the point?

Apart from Cinco’s hatred of Double Stuf Oreos and his possible overabundance of money, he seemed like an okay person.

Up until now, life had dealt her some crummy cards, but as she glanced at this strong, sensitive, and sweet man who didn’t want anything from her except her company, it occurred to her that maybe . . . just maybe . . . her luck was starting to change.

CHAPTER 5

Cinco was exhausted, but he just couldn’t bring himself to end the evening with CanDee. There was something about her that made him smile . . . like an idiot . . . all of the time. There weren’t any awkward conversational pauses because there was always something to talk about. And he’d just about laughed himself hoarse for the first time in a long time. He had a feeling that she was going to be important to him.

He glanced at the clock on the dash. It was after nine. The closest restaurant was Dairy Queen and it was over an hour away. “Hungry?”

“Not really. You?” CanDee picked up the bag of Oreos and waggled it at him. Moonlight streamed in from behind her and made her skin glow.

“Not so much.” He pulled up to the fence surrounding the lookout tower. So much for the receipt. He’d find something to keep with him so the night never ended.

He jumped down from this truck and picked up the combination lock, rolling the tumblers until they clicked in place and the lock sprang open. After pulling the chain free, he swung the large metal gate open, secured the chain and lock around the handle, and returned to the truck.

The driver-side window rolled down. “I’ll pull through and you can lock the gate.”

As the man he felt like it was his job to take care of the details like driving through, but it was nice that she wanted to help out. He moved aside and let her pull into the pasture before locking the gate.

CanDee put the truck in park, turned off the engine, and opened the door. “I didn’t even have to move your seat.”

She handed him the keys. The headlights stayed on, lighting up the zigzag of stairs leading all the way up to the top of the lookout tower. He went to the passenger side, opened the extended-cab door, and pulled out a blanket and a large metal flashlight.

“Isn’t the blanket a little presumptuous?” He could tell that she loved messing with him.

“Nope. The entire building is made of metal and this time of year it gets cold. If we’re going to lie down and watch the stars, we should be comfortable.”

He flicked on the flashlight and pointed it at the metal stairs. “Ladies first.”

She ran up the first flight of stairs and turned back to look down on him. “I bet you had me go first so you could look up my skirt.”

He ran up the flight behind her. “No, but do you always wear tiny lace underwear?”

It wasn’t that he’d been looking, but the wind had blown her skirt up and he’d gotten a pretty good look at that tiny excuse for underwear. He’d only gotten a view of the backside. Was the front as itty-bitty? He wouldn’t mind having the opportunity to peel them off of her.

This time it was her turn to blush. By the light of the flashlight, he could make out two dots of rose-petal pink—one on each cheek.

“Pervert. I’ve agreed to watch the stars with a total pervert.” She held out her hand. “Give me the flashlight and you go first.”

“Why?” He grinned. “I’m enjoying the view.”

“A little too much.” She pointed to the flashlight. “Hand it over.”

“But if you stumble, I won’t be able to catch you if I’m in front.” That really was the reason he’d had her go first; the lacy panties had just been a bonus.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take to keep your eyes off my thong.” She folded her arms.

“OK.” Gently, he turned her around. “I’ll follow closer and I promise not to look up.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

She started on the next flight and true to his word, he was right behind her.

“Do you always wear a thong?”

She bumped the flashlight as she turned around and looked down her nose at him.

“What? I’m not looking at them. I just wanted to know for future reference.” He’d tried to get Naomi to wear a thong, but she hated them. So there were women who actually wore them because they liked them? He grinned to himself.

“Why are you so interested in my underwear?” She stomped up the stairs.

“Just making conversation. My ex-wife wasn’t into frilly underwear.” His ex-wife hadn’t been into much except spending his money on everything except lacy underwear.

“You were married?” She looked back over her shoulder.

“Five wonderful . . . peaceful years.” He hadn’t meant to sound so cynical.

“Don’t believe in marriage?” She turned back around and continued up the steps. She wasn’t even breathing hard.

“I didn’t say that.” He’d never really thought about it before. “I do believe in marriage. I just don’t believe in marriage to Naomi.”

He dreaded the next question . . . the one where she asked what happened. Should he lie and tell her that they’d grown apart or should he tell her the truth and risk looking like an idiot because he hadn’t known his wife was cheating?

She nodded. “Makes sense. I’ve learned a thing or two from my exes. Although, I was lucky enough not to have married any of them.”

He waited for the “what happened” question but it never came.

“You neglected to mention the four hundred flights of stairs when you brought up stargazing.” She still wasn’t out of breath, but she’d slowed down. “My thighs are burning.”

“Must be all of that yoga that keeps you so in shape.” He couldn’t help it. Sparring with her was so much fun.

“Put up or shut up, Cowboy. Yoga at the cottage at noon tomorrow. Show up or I’ll know you’re afraid.”

“You’re on.” He’d do it just to watch her do yoga. Hell, he’d show up just to watch her stand there and read from Dictionary.com.

“Good God, how many more steps are there?” She looked up and grimaced.

“Only four more flights to go.”

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful.” She stomped up the steps.

“I’m a complex man with lots of layers. I find humor in the strangest things.” He was struggling to keep up with her. His thighs were on fire too.

“I thought your mom said you weren’t much of a talker. Now I can’t get you to shut up.” She stomped up another flight of stairs.

“You bring out my inner teenaged girl. Want me to text you? Later, we can braid each other’s hair and post the pictures on Instagram.” He grinned.

“Lucky me.” She climbed the last flight of stairs and threw her arms up like Rocky taking a victory lap. “I haven’t climbed that many stairs since my ex decided to be a personal trainer and thought I needed to get into shape. Thank God he’d only wanted to be one long enough to get the certification.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what had happened with the personal trainer, but she hadn’t asked what went wrong with Naomi, so she deserved the same courtesy.

He climbed the last stairs and used the flashlight to point her in the direction of the observation deck.

She followed the beam of light to the rail and looked up. “Okay, this is worth it.”

He spread the blanket out and sat.

She turned around and leaned against the rail. “So, you bring all of your women up here?”

She made it sound like he’d had dozens.

“No.” He thought about it as he patted the real estate next to him. “You’re the only one.”

“Uh huh.” She sat beside him.

“No, really.” He looked up at the stars. He pointed up. “That’s the Big Dipper and there’s Ursa Major. See, there’s the head. It’s supposed to look like a big bear, but I think it looks more like a turtle.”

“I guess you learned all about the stars on all those cattle drives. Spending the night under the stars and all of that.” CanDee lay down on her back and stared up at the sky.

“No, there’s an app on my iPad. You hold it up to the sky and it maps the stars.”

Her hair spilled all around him and the scents of peaches and coconut drifted up. Her full bottom lip was ripe for sucking. With the moonlight dancing off of her creamy skin, she was impossibly beautiful. He wanted her in his bed with her hair scenting his pillow and he wanted to wake up next to her with his arms tangled around her.

When he was seventeen, Cinco had been pretty sure that he loved Jenny Drake, but before he fell all over himself telling her, he’d asked how his father had known that he loved his mother. His father told him about their first date. His mother had been an exhausted resident working a rotation in the ER when his father had brought in a ranch hand who’d broken his arm. His father asked her to have dinner with him and she’d turned her back on him and left the room. He had shown up at the ER every single night until she had agreed to get coffee with him in the cafeteria. When he got to this point in the story, Cinco’s father pulled out something from his wallet to show Cinco. It was the crumpled hospital cafeteria receipt from his first date with his mother, which he still kept in his wallet to this day. His dad had told him that night was special and as long as he had the receipt with him, the magic of the night would never end.

More than ever, he wished he had a receipt like his father had to remember this night. Cinco understood now how important it was to have something tangible to mark this night because he knew it was the start of something special. His feelings weren’t logical or even practical, but he knew this was a beginning and he never wanted the magic to end. Nothing he’d ever done with Naomi felt this special. He took out his phone, scooted up next to CanDee, pulled up the camera icon, and held it out at arm’s length. “Smile.”

The flash went off and then he turned the camera around to see the picture. His thumb made a tiny appearance off in the left corner, but mostly—well, minus half of his left ear—the picture was of two smiling people who looked happy. He hadn’t thought of himself as happy, or for that matter seen himself happy in a very long time. Just the thought of CanDee made him grin and want to do things like bring her flowers and drop by the cottage just to see what she was doing and to call her just to hear the sound of her voice. Oh God, he was turning into a girl.

“Now that I’m blind”—she rubbed her eyes and turned her face toward him—“how bad is the picture?”

He turned his face toward her.

“Really good, actually.” And much better than a receipt.

His mouth was inches from hers. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t mind spending the next million nights doing this . . . just sitting here with her. She made him laugh. In his mind, that made her the perfect female. The itty-bitty panties didn’t hurt either.

“In case you’re getting lost in your head, I’d like to point out that this is the perfect kissing moment.” She grinned up at him. “Just FYI.”

He inched closer to her opened mouth and gently ran his lips from one corner of her mouth all the way to the other.

Under his hand, the muscles of her shoulder tensed up and her breathing turned heavy. Fear, not pleasure radiated off of her. Not the reaction he’d expected.

“Please tell me that’s your finger that just slithered up my thigh.” Her voice was a frantic whisper. He held up both of his hands for her to see and then grabbed the flashlight and pointed the beam at her lap.

“Don’t be alarmed.” He jumped up, grabbed the snake, and tossed it over the railing. “There was a snake on your leg.”

“Oh my God.” She jumped up and did her best to climb up the front of his body. “A snake?”

He patted her back. “It’s fine. I threw it over the side. It’s gone.”

“There’s probably more. Oh my God. We’re in the middle of a snake pit or den or nest or something.” She wriggled her way back behind him. “It’s just like that scene in
Indiana Jones
when they were dropped in the snake pit. Is the floor moving?”

She wrapped her legs around his waist piggyback style.

Gently, he pried her hands from around his neck and held one in each of his. “Hush, it was one snake. It’s gone. They climb up here sometimes from the trees next to the lookout. Usually, they’re all out hunting during the night. I guarantee you that snake is more afraid of you than you are of it.”

“I seriously doubt it. I hate snakes, especially ones that slither up my leg.” Her voice was frantic and he could feel her heartbeat pounding away in her chest.

“So I guess you’re piggybacking it down the stairs.” He bent at the knee with her still on his back, let go of one of her hands, and grabbed the blanket. He rolled it up in a ball and tossed it over the side. He couldn’t carry her and it down all of those stairs.

“That’s my plan.” She locked her feet together. “I hope you don’t have a bad back because while I’ll feel terrible about making it worse, I’m not prepared to set foot on the lookout.”

“It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” He used the tone he reserved for skittish horses and scared females. “Grab hold of my shirt. I need both of my hands to reposition you.”

“Okay.” She took two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled on it so hard that it came untucked, rode up, and was choking him.

With both of his hands, he reached around behind him and grabbed two handfuls of smooth, round ass. Apparently her dress had flapped open and his hands had traveled under it. His fingertips brushed the tiniest scrap of soft lace.

He repositioned her more firmly on his back. “You weren’t kidding about the thong.”

“I should be embarrassed, but since fear kicks embarrassed’s ass every time, I’m going to pretend that your hands aren’t caressing my bare butt.” Her fingers loosened and she flattened out the wrinkles she’d put in his shirt. She ran her hands up and down his shoulders. “You have nice shoulders.”