The Cowboy's Mail Order Bride (21 page)

He sat down in the recliner and she curled up in his lap. He reached for the lever on the side and got comfortable. She fit in his arms like she belonged there forever, her head resting on his chest, one hand behind his neck, and one splayed above his shirt pocket.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Just hold me, Greg.”

It would be like this when they were too old to enjoy each other’s bodies anymore. The house would be quiet except when the children brought the kids and then the great-grandkids home from hopefully nearby ranches.

She’d fallen in love with Greg. Plain and simple. In less than three weeks she had lost her heart and soul to someone who lived all the way across the state.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten as far as she had, but that was okay. She wasn’t going anywhere and she would give him all the time he needed. He was sleeping when she looked up at him. His arms held on to her tightly even in his sleep and that was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Using his rough tongue, Bocephus licked up across her cheek and woke her at three o’clock in the morning. She squirmed out of Greg’s embrace and finally worked her way up from the recliner.

“Hey, did we go to sleep? Is it morning?”

“Almost,” she said. “You can thank Bo for waking us up. Go on over to your room and get a couple of hours of comfortable sleep.”

He stood to his feet and cupped her face in his big hands. The kiss was a mixture of passion and sweet, full of fire and gentleness. She leaned into it and locked her arms around his waist.

When he broke it off, she took a step back. “Good night, Greg.”

He leaned down and kissed her right between the eyes.

She pushed him toward the door. “Go before I do something stupid like beg you to go to bed with me.”

He touched her face once more, tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of his forefinger. “Good night, Emily. I love you.”

He was gone before she was even sure she heard him right.

By seven thirty on Friday morning the pasture to the side of the sale barn had begun to look like a used car lot. Trucks from the hired help and the bazaar ladies, vans, cars, and even a 1970 vintage Volkswagen bus was parked out there.

Clarice and Dotty told Louis exactly where to set the first table, then Madge chose three strong cowboys, led them to the hippie bus, and made them carry boxes upon boxes of food into the barn.

“It’s too early to bring in food,” Emily said.

Rose flipped a checkered cloth over the eight-foot table and started unloading platters of cookies and finger foods, all the while shaking her head.

Dotty moved around to the back side of the table and began helping. “This isn’t for the bazaar. It’s for all the folks who’ll be working all day at putting the bazaar together. The work that goes on before takes longer than the party lasts, and we never pass up an opportunity to bring food in this neck of the woods.”

Clarice leaned in from behind Emily and whispered, “The boys work twice as hard if they’re well fed.”

“And the women gossip twice as much,” Rose said.

“We handle things the same way out in west Texas. Whose VW is that?” Emily pulled a plate of pecan sandy cookies from a box.

“Mine,” Madge said. “And yes, I was a hippie, and yes, I still would be if I wasn’t an old woman. And I picked out four of the wildest women on my site for Greg. I hope that at least one of them lands him.”

“Hell, Madge, don’t let age stop you. And your wild women ain’t got a chance against my list,” Dotty whispered as she scanned the room.

Madge pointed at her. “You ain’t got a chance against my girls.”

“Quit your fightin’,” Rose said. “I’ve got the whole bunch of you bested.”

The tingle on the back of Emily’s neck said that Greg was somewhere close by. While the ladies bantered she scanned the room. Cowboy hats and jeans were everywhere, but none of them fit Greg’s description.

Her senses were never wrong.

He had to be hiding in the shadows. She very carefully looked from corner to corner, and back again. Still no Greg, but she could feel his gaze undressing her like he did that morning at the breakfast table.

Finally, she looked up and there he was leaning over the buyer’s balcony. He pointed to the right and then crooked his forefinger. Without saying anything, she slipped away from the arguing ladies and found the door leading up to the balcony. He met her at the top, slipped a hand under her knees and one under her arms, and carried her to the top bench.

When he sat down, she locked her arms around his neck and laid her cheek against his chest. “What are you doing up here?”

He buried his face in her hair. “Hiding out and waiting for you.”

“Clarice will find us,” she said.

“I know, but we’ve got a few minutes. I wanted you to know that I meant what I said last night. I was wide awake when I said it and I meant it.”

She leaned away from his broad chest and locked gazes with him. “Are you sure?”

“Want me to get out the megaphone and yell it from the banister so everyone in the barn will know? Yes, I’m sure.” He pulled her back into his embrace and his lips met hers in a passionate, scorching hot kiss that convinced her even more than his words. “You don’t have to say it right now. I’m a patient man, and I can wait until you feel it in your heart.”

She’d had relationships of one depth or the other in her lifetime, but it was the right time, the right place, and Greg was the right man. Everything lined up so perfectly that it scared her. God would throw the wrench in the gears; she just knew he would.

“I’m wide awake now and so are you, so I’m going to say it again so you won’t have any doubts. I love you, Emily,” he whispered.

“I love you, Greg,” she said. “And just for the books, I’m not saying it because you did. It hit me just seconds before you said it, but I thought…”

He hugged her tightly. “You thought I was half-asleep.”

“Greg Adams.” Max’s voice bounced off the walls of the barn, and Emily’s soul came close to leaving her body.

Greg pulled her back into his embrace. “He’s playing with the auctioneer’s microphone.”

“Greg Adams, wherever you are, your nana says she needs you to find her. She’s the lady in the red shirt and a chocolate chip cookie in her hand,” Max said.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Emily said.

“I’d rather stay up here and make out with you all morning.”

She tilted her head toward the narrow bench. “We’d have to stack up like cord wood. This isn’t even as wide as the attic bed.”

“I’ll gladly take the bottom so you don’t get splinters in your pretty little butt. But they’d bust in on us and ruin the moment. Maybe we’ll go into town for ice cream tonight?”

“Do they have ice cream in the vending machine at the hotel?”

The ringtone coming from his shirt pocket said that Clarice was serious about finding him. Emily pulled the phone out and handed it to him.

“I heard Max. Probably half the county heard Max. I’m on my way,” he said.

Emily was close enough that she could hear Clarice’s voice. “Jeremiah says that he got tied up and can’t make it today, but he will definitely be here tomorrow evening. And Emily, we need you to work on some signs when you get finished kissing my grandson.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled.

“Dear Lord,” Emily gasped.

“We’re dating, darlin’. And that means kissin’ is allowed right along with holding hands, even in Nana and Dotty’s world. Let’s go work on signs and set up tables.”

When they were halfway down the stairs, Dotty yelled across the barn, “Y’all stay out of Madge’s van. Her motto when she first bought that thing was that if the bus was rockin’, don’t come knockin’.” Dotty laughed.

***

Clarice air slapped Dotty. “You’ll embarrass her.”

“They’re kissing? Did I hear you say they were kissing?” Madge asked.

“When did all this start?” Rose pushed Madge to the side so that she could be closer to Clarice.

“Shhh! They’re close enough they can hear us, and yes, they were kissing and they are now dating.” Dotty shushed them all.

“What about the dating site women?” Rose asked.

“Not a thing,” Clarice whispered then motioned for Emily. “You have such beautiful handwriting, I’d like for you to sit down at this table and make a name placard to go on each of the chairs. Here’s a list of the names and there’s paper, pens, crayons, glitter glue, and a whole box of sticker things.”

“I could probably do a better job on the computer,” Emily said.

“We want it handmade, not computer generated,” Rose told her.

Greg let go of her hand and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later. If I don’t go help Max move that round pen, he’ll pick up the microphone again.”

“It’s true, Emily?” Rose sighed.

“What?” Emily raised an eyebrow.

“You are dating Greg. That makes me so happy. To think that Marvin’s granddaughter and Clarice’s grandson… oh, it’s a fairy tale. But, oh no! How are you going to handle all the women we’ve invited here tonight?” Rose gasped.

“We’ll deal with them. Can’t undo what’s been done, and maybe they’ll get into a bidding war and really bring in a lot of money for the scholarships,” Emily said.

Clarice put her head in her hands. “You are going to have to buy up every dance ticket, and dear Lord, you have to buy him or one of those women will tell him, and now that he’s fallen for you, he’ll be so mad at us.”

Emily patted Clarice on the shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of it. But I do have a question.”

“What?” Dotty barely whispered.

“Do any of you know what it means when someone says they’ll bring the leather?”

“Of course, it means that they want to ride horses and they’ll bring their own saddle. Greg loves horses. I was hoping you’d look at that site this morning when you sat down at the computer. I’m worried that I didn’t invite the right four,” Clarice answered.

Emily smiled and leaned across the table. “In today’s world, ladies, leather means bondage, as in she will tie him up and spank him if he wants and she’ll be wearing leather underbritches that are real skimpy and a leather bra. And what she’s intending to ride is not horses.”

“Oh, my sweet holy Jesus,” Rose said.

“Holy-damn-shit.” Dotty actually blushed.

“So how many ladies are bringing leather?” Emily asked.

Clarice held up two fingers. Dotty held up four.

Madge said, “One of mine likes leather and one is expecting a very wild ride that will blow her mind. Please tell me that
blow
her
mind
doesn’t mean some kind of drugs.”

“Rose?” Emily asked.

“I’m just trying to remember what all I said when I was Greg. I think I might have given the impression that I could show her such a good time that… oh, my! I was talking about taking her to a rodeo and I can’t even say the words.”

“Well, it ought to be a right lively auction for sure.” Emily laughed.

“You will dance all the dances with him, won’t you?” Clarice asked.

“No, ma’am. But I will do my best to dance the last one and everyone knows whoever gets the last dance is the one that takes him home. Now tell me more about that VW bus out there.” She quickly moved the attention to Madge.

“Oh, honey, things went on in that bus that will live on in memories. You’d never believe it if we did tell you.” Madge blushed.

“Oh, yes, I would. That’s why it’s still running and bringing stuff to the church bazaar—so it can hear tales about what went on when it was in its prime, right?” Emily raised a dark eyebrow.

Dotty answered, “That’s why we keep bringing things to the bazaar. We’re trying to buy ourselves a ticket into heaven. The VW is to remind us that we got a lot of work to do yet. Now, young lady, you sit right down here and put those cowboys’ names on these plaques. We’re going to make them hold them in their laps so the women folks can see them real good. You better make a bunch with Greg’s picture and name on them. Now tell us, how long have you known that you were fallin’ for Greg?”

“I’m not saying jack shit. I’ve got plaques to make,” Emily said.

Clarice pointed at Dotty. “You are a bad influence. You’ve got her cussin’.”

Dotty grabbed Clarice’s finger and held it tightly. “You might have made me stop smokin’ when I adopted Jeremiah and stop drinkin’ when Henry died. But I’ll be damned if you make me stop cussin’. It’s all I got left.”

“And I’m going to grow up and be just like her,” Emily teased.

Clarice pulled her finger free and said, “Well, shit!”

***

A lone candle burned on a weathered old wooden feedbox beside the bed. Long lashes rested on Emily’s cheekbones as she slept nestled in the crook of Greg’s body after a bout of scalding hot sex. He shouldn’t be sneaking out to the attic with her; they should be sleeping together in his bed in the house. But she would have none of it, saying that it was disrespectful to Clarice. She’d felt guilty about the two-minute quickie in the bathroom and said that they couldn’t even do that anymore.

Doubts plagued him as he stared at her as long as he wanted. Maybe she loved him but she wasn’t in love with him. There was a vast difference in the two, and he’d proven it a couple of times in the past. He had loved but he’d never been in love before Emily.

He’d never believed in that instant falling in love that his friends talked about. No woman would ever rein in his heart to the point that he couldn’t think of anything but her all day long. Lust did that and when it finally played out, then the relationship died. But it had happened and he understood being in love as opposed to simply loving.

***

The moon was gone from the attic window when Emily awoke. The candle was still burning, but the first sun rays of the day gave enough light that she could study Greg’s face as he slept. In the depths of sleep his face was softer, the angles less pronounced, but his lips still belonged to a masculine cowboy. Thick dark lashes rested on his cheekbones, and the effect was sexy as the devil, but she liked for his eyes to be open.

She liked the way he looked at her, that instant flash of heat that she got when his eyes went all soft and dreamy just before he kissed her. She stretched until her lips were even with his and woke him with a series of burning kisses.

“Good mornin’,” he mumbled.

“It is morning and we probably need to go in the house before Dotty gets to stirring around. I love waking up with you,” she said.

“Me too,” he said.

He framed her face with his hands. “Emily, I’m in love with you. I want you to understand that.”

“I do,” she said.

“There is a difference in saying that I love you and being in love with you.”

“I know, Greg,” she whispered. “My heart was in love with you before my mind was willing to say that I loved you.”

“Just so you know and never doubt it,” he said.

“Then why this serious mood?”

“I just have to say what is on my heart or it’ll blow up.” He slapped her playfully on the fanny. “Are we going to go to the house or move in together here in the attic? Your call.”

She wiggled out of his embrace. Her bare feet hit the cold linoleum, and she quickly stomped on her boots without pausing to put on socks. She grabbed an oversized T-shirt and pulled it over her head, picked up her flannel lounging pants, and slung them over her shoulder.

Greg crawled out of bed, stretched, and dug his glasses out of his boots. “Oh, my, you are even more beautiful when I can see you as well as touch you,” he said.

Emily pointed to the bed. “You are a charmer. At first I thought you were going to be a cold businessman. But I was wrong.”

“I think I was before you came into my life,” he admitted.

“And now you are a hot cowboy charmer.” She smiled.

A hell of a lot of women were showing up that night expecting more than a charming cowboy. She wondered if they’d have a suitcase packed plumb full of leather goods to tease him with.

He picked up the corner of the quilt. “This thing must have magical powers.”

“It’s like me, darlin’. Just a plain old quilt that promises red-hot sex. No magic. No leather. No whips. Nothing kinky.”