Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (4 page)

“You okay, Jenna?” the kid asked before Beau could. “Who was that guy, anyway? You want me to have Alejandro take him out for you?”

Jenna pulled her gaze from the disappearing limo, and her eyes narrowed on the kid, whose pants hung so low they were in danger of falling off. “I thought you told me that you didn’t work for Alejandro anymore.”

“I don’t.” The kid stared back at Jenna for only a second before his eyes skittered away. If that wasn’t a sure sign that he was lying through his teeth, the quick subject change was. “Who’s the Yippee-kai-yay mofo?”

“He’s a friend of mine.” Jenna pointed a finger at the kid. “And watch your mouth. If your mama heard you, she’d warm your butt.” Her expression softened. “How is she doing?”

The kid shrugged. “Her back’s still messed up. And the as—buttholes at her job are late again with the workman’s comp. Even though their stupid heavy boxes were the reason she hurt her back in the first place.”

If Jenna’s determined look was any indication, Beau figured that the kid’s mom would have a check within the next couple days. If not, Beau would write her one himself. He had always been a sucker for a sob story.

Jenna dug around in her tote bag. “Here, Miguel.” She held out a twenty-dollar bill, but Miguel shook his head.

“I got some money saved up.”

This time, Jenna didn’t believe him and stuffed the money in his front pocket. “Stay away from Alejandro and his thugs.”

The kid nodded and then strutted back to the restaurant.

Jenna waited until he got inside before she turned and headed down the street as if fighting off giants and saving kids was something she did every day. Beau had started to wonder if maybe it wasn’t.

“Aren’t you going to call the police?” he asked as he fell into step next to her.

She shook her head. “I might’ve overreacted a little bit. The guy just wanted to drive me to Jersey to talk with his boss, who is a little upset about me picketing his grocery stores and scaring away business.” She glanced over at him. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, but you don’t need to follow me home. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced up at the tall buildings. “And who says I’m following you home? Maybe I’m just taking in the sights of the city.”

Jenna picked up her pace. “Suit yourself, Cowboy.”

Beau had never been much for strenuous exercise. So he was more than a little winded after speed-walking home with Jenna and climbing the four flights of stairs to her apartment. Something Jenna didn’t hesitate to take note of.

“You would think that a big stud bull rider would be in better shape,” she said as she dug through her tote bag.

“I only have to last eight seconds.” He stopped and leaned on the banister.

She glanced up, and a smile played with her lips. “Eight seconds? Is that all you last?”

He squinted. “Are we talking bull riding? Because if we’re talking about something else, the proof is in the puddin’.” He stepped closer. “And I’ve never minded sharing my puddin’, sweetheart.”

“I’m sure you haven’t.” She shot him a wide-eyed innocent look before speaking in a high voice. “Ohhh, Beau.”

Beau grinned. “Heard that, did ya?”

“It was hard not to. The woman has a voice as loud as my sister’s. And Hope won Miss Hogcaller of Haskin County five years running.”

“No kiddin’?” He propped a shoulder on the wall. “Did you ever try your hand at it—or should I say your vocal cords?”

“No. I was more athlete than hog caller.”

“Let me guess, state champion wrestler?”

She laughed. “No. But I wanted to go out for wrestling. My daddy wouldn’t let me. I think it had to do with all those boys mauling me.”

Beau understood exactly what she was talking about. Suddenly, he had the strongest urge for a repeat performance
of their wrestling match—minus the part where she left him. But it didn’t look like he was going to get it. The way she hesitated with her hand on the doorknob made it obvious that she had no intention of inviting him in. And it was for the best. She wasn’t his type. Not his type at all.

“Well,” she lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” Beau sent her a smile before tipping his hat and backing down the hallway. If she had opened the door and gone inside, he could’ve easily walked down the stairs and never looked back. But instead, she stood there watching him, her hair straggling down from her ponytail and freckles covering her nose like little chocolate sprinkles. She watched him with eyes the same deep blue as a lake he’d once fished at in Canada.

“Y’all take care now,” she whispered.

The typical Texas good-bye was Beau’s undoing. In three long strides, he had her in his arms and pushed up against the door.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“Just testing something out,” he said before lowering his mouth to hers. She didn’t taste like cherries. She tasted like heaven. Her lips were warm and soft and opened without hesitation, allowing him full access to her mouth. Her hands came up and ran through his hair, knocking his hat to the floor and tugging him closer. Close enough to realize that her long legs were perfectly matched to his. He flexed his hips, and blue jean fly brushed against black cotton fly. Just that quickly, desire flooded his body, giving him a hard-on that was easily detected.

Jenna’s hands dropped from his hair, and she pulled away. Her eyes looked as confused as Beau felt. He released
her and took a step back just as the door was pulled open. Her friend stood there in the same baggy printed boxers she’d worn in the phone photos. Except on closer examination, Beau realized that the wild hair, skinny arms, and nipple rings belonged to a man, not a woman.

“Hey, babe,” the man said before he reached out and hooked a tattooed arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Did you bring home some OJ?”

Without waiting for an introduction, Beau turned on his boot heel and headed for the stairs. He didn’t realize that he’d left his hat until he stepped out of the apartment building. But damned if he was going back for it. He felt like a big enough idiot.

I just want to test something out.

Well, he’d tested something out all right. And he’d gotten his results. It seemed he was now turned on by skinny, aggressive blondes with girly, tattooed boyfriends. He shook his head. What a pathetic state of affairs.

On the way down the front steps, his cell phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, but then figured he could use the distraction. He realized his mistake when he heard the raspy woman’s voice on the other line.

It seemed that today was Beau’s day for having to deal with ornery, cantankerous women.

M
ILLICENT
L
ADUE
, or Minnie as her friends called her, adjusted the bright yellow phone receiver to her ear. “Speak up, boy. I think we got us a bad connection. I asked if you found her.” She pushed the button on the arm of her battery-operated wheelchair and zipped back over to the kitchen table, stretching the twisted phone cord to its limit.

A heavy sigh came through the receiver. “Yes, I found her.”

“So the information I got was right. She is working at that restaurant.” Minnie held the phone with her shoulder while she dealt out three cards, flipping the third one face up. “Did you follow her? Were you able to get her address?”

Beau paused for a second before answering. “Yes. But I’ve got to tell you, Minnie, I think you’ve made a mistake. This woman is about as far as you can get from being hen material. I can’t see her catering to men as much as annoying the hell out of them.”

Minnie’s hand paused over a row of cards for only a
second before she recovered. “You met her? I thought I told you that we didn’t want her knowing she was being checked up on.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” he said. “She just thinks our meeting was accidental.”

An accidental meeting?
Now that sounded intriguing, as did the part about Beau being annoyed as hell. Beau was the type of man who let few things annoy him. Especially not women. Of course, how could a man be annoyed with women when they flocked to him like geese to a summer pond? Unless this was one woman who didn’t flock to him.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Minnie placed two fingers to her lips and inhaled deeply, longing for nicotine-infused smoke instead of the clean air that filled her lungs. Smoking was just another thing that had changed since the Cates brothers had taken over. Or since Brant Cates had taken over. Beauregard might be one of the owners, but he rarely showed up at Miss Hattie’s. And Minnie figured it was about time for that to change.

“Since you’re in the neighborhood,” she said, “I expect a visit.”

Beau laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call New York City in the neighborhood.”

She continued playing her game of solitaire that was spread out on the kitchen table. “If you can travel all over the world, you can travel to Texas for a few days.”

There was another long pause. “I’ll try, Minnie, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I’ve never put much store in promises,” she said. “You either do something or you don’t.” She placed a four
of clubs on a five of diamonds before reaching in the side pocket of her wheelchair for a pen and paper. “Now give me Jenna’s address.”

Beau complied, but not without a warning. “Be careful, Minnie. Brant loves you, but if you push him too far, he might just send you off to that old folks’ home he likes to threaten you with. And I’d say that inviting women to Miss Hattie’s to train them to become prostitutes is pushing him too far.”

“Prostitutes!” She yelled so loudly that Baby came running into the room, her high-heel shoes clicking against the linoleum and her eyes wide behind her thick glasses. Minnie flapped a hand at the hen who was the spitting image of Marilyn Monroe—give or take thirty years—and continued her phone conversation. “Why, I’m ashamed of you, Beauregard Cates. I thought you knew better than that. Hens have never been prostitutes.”

“I just think you need to be careful what you do. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds when Miss Hattie’s was at its prime.”

That was really too bad, Minnie thought. But she couldn’t turn back the hands of time. Besides, Miss Hattie’s was still in operation. Just not the kind of operation it had been for close to a hundred years. Now it was a respectable bed and breakfast. The perfect front for what Minnie had in mind.

“Well, I appreciate you worrying about me, Beauregard,” Minnie said, “but I think I’ve got things under control. Now take care of yourself.”

After hanging up with Beau, Minnie turned to Baby, who still stood in the kitchen with a concerned look on her face.

“Maybe Beau has a right to worry, Min,” she said. “Maybe what we’re doing is wrong. Most of the hens you want to contact don’t even know who their ancestors are, and maybe it’s best if we keep it that way.”

Minnie rolled back to the table. “My intent is not to ruin their lives, but to enhance them. If I think that they are happy where they are or unable to benefit from what the henhouse has to offer, I’ll keep my beak shut and let them live their lives without knowing their connection to Miss Hattie’s. But you should know better than anyone, Baby, that sometimes a person needs to know where they came from before they can figure out where they’re going.”

At that exact moment, the doorbell chimed out the sweet melody of “Deep in the Heart of Texas” as if God was seconding Minnie’s words. At least, that’s the way Minnie chose to see it. She pressed the button on her chair and rolled closer to Baby, holding out the piece of paper she’d written Jenna’s address on.

“Send out an invitation,” Minnie said. “ASAP.”

Marcy Henderson removed her finger from the doorbell and felt another wave of nervous jitters. Miss Hattie’s Henhouse wasn’t at all what she had expected. She didn’t know what a whorehouse should look like, but she hadn’t thought it would look like a pretty farmhouse with a bright red roof, deep green shutters, and a wraparound porch that belonged in some country home and garden magazine.

The huge front door opened, causing Marcy to jump. But she collected herself quickly enough and did what she always did when she was scared—became aggressive and belligerent.

“Jesus!” She held a hand to her abundant breasts and glared at the young woman who stood in the doorway. “Why don’t you scare the crap out of me?”

The smile on the chubby woman’s face melted. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She fussed with the ugly rose pinned to the waist of her formal. A formal that was almost as tight as the dresses Marcy wore. “I thought you were my piano teacher.”

“Nope,” Marcy said. “Never played anything but the kazoo.” She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her Wranglers to still the shaking. “I’m here about the job.”

The woman looked confused. “What job?”

“I’ll take it from here, Starlet,” a raspy voice said. Starlet stepped aside, and an old woman in a wheelchair and a really bad wig rolled into view.

“I’m Miss Minnie Ladue, the proprietor of Miss Hattie’s. And you must be Marcy Henderson. Moses Tate told me that you seemed interested in the job.” She waved a hand. “Well, come on in, child. We’re lettin’ all the cool air out.”

Marcy hesitated. Once she stepped over the threshold there was no going back. Of course, there was no going back anyway. Her fate had been decided a long time ago. She was just following the path set out for her. Lifting her chin, she stepped into the house.

The inside was less country and more snooty. Everything, from the chandeliers to the
Gone With the Wind
staircase, looked old and expensive. Marcy clutched her hands in front of her and tried not to touch anything.

“Right this way,” Miss Ladue said as she rolled toward a set of double doors. Starlet raced to open them for her, sort of like a puppy that wanted to please. Marcy had once
been that girl, but when she’d discovered there was no pleasing her parents, she had taken a different route to get attention.

“Did you want me to get you some lemonade, Minnie?” the young woman asked.