Going Cowboy Crazy (15 page)

He was Hope’s.

Faith’s jaw tightened, along with her resolve. “Yes, Slate. I want you to leave.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes gorgeous and sincere, before he nodded. “Fine. I guess I’ll see you around.”

Her good-bye got stuck behind the lump that had formed in her throat, and all she could do was stare back at him, completely unaware of the black Lincoln Navigator that pulled up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I never would’ve believed it.” A beautiful blonde came around the front of the SUV, and before Faith could take more than a step back, she was smothered against huge, soft breasts.

“Same dwarfy size. Same bony body.” The woman
pulled back and studied Faith with sparkling eyes the color of wet spring grass. “Hair’s different—very polished.” The woman flashed white teeth and dimples before she tipped her head down and looked at Slate through the open window. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

The smile Slate sent her lacked his usual charm. “Hey, Shirl. How was Dallas?”

“Filled with plenty of stores for me to spend Lyle’s money in.” Her gaze shifted between the two of them. “Did I interrupt something?” The smile deepened. “My bad—or maybe my good, since it looks like you two could use a little distance.” She hooked an arm through Faith’s. “Come on, honey. Let’s go back to the house and you can tell Shirlene all about it.”

Faith dug in her boot heels and glanced back at Slate.

Grudgingly, he nodded. “Go on with Shirlene, darlin’. She’s a good friend.”

Good friend to whom? Faith wanted to ask. But it wasn’t like she had another choice. Go with Slate, stay at Jenna and Burl’s, or walk fifty miles and become a roughneck’s main squeeze. The beautiful blonde with the bright smile seemed like her best option. Still, once in the passenger side of the Navigator, Faith started to have second thoughts. The only reason the woman was so happy to see her was because she thought Faith was Hope. Which meant she needed to explain things before they went anywhere.

But before she could open her mouth, Shirlene surprised her.

“Welcome to Bramble, Faith.” She winked. “You like margaritas? Because I make the best margaritas this side of the Rio Grande.” She whipped the SUV around and
headed in the opposite direction from Slate. “Did you know that the frozen margarita was invented by a Texan?”

Faith didn’t know that. But she also didn’t know how sad she would feel watching a truck with offensive bumper stickers and two flapping flags grow smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

T
HE
S
PANISH MISSION-STYLE MANSION
Shirlene lived in was as far from Slate’s trailer as a home could get. And it was all Faith could do to keep her jaw from dropping as Shirlene gave her a tour of the sprawling estate with its swimming pool, guest cottage, spa and sauna, and the media room the size of a small theater. Not that Faith hadn’t been in gorgeous homes before—her boss had a multimillion-dollar home on the North Shore of Chicago—but she just hadn’t expected to find a house this size in Bramble, Texas.

Of course, there were a lot of things she hadn’t expected to find in Bramble. Things much more jaw-dropping than a big mansion. Things she couldn’t think about without wanting to sling around a few good four-letter words. And since Shirlene had been the epitome of gracious hospitality since bringing her back to her home—offering her the guesthouse and a sumptuous breakfast prepared by her cook, Cristina—Faith kept her anger to herself and tried to be a grateful guest.

It wasn’t hard given Shirlene’s bubbly personality. The woman was like the neighborhood Welcome Wagon—
Texas-style. And sitting across from her in the large sunroom off the kitchen, Faith still couldn’t get over the breathtaking combination of thick blond hair, sparkling green eyes, and bee-stung lips that were rarely without an impish smile.

“So you’re from Chicago?” Shirlene sat back in the corner of the opulent white couch and sipped her margarita—her second before noon. “I’ve never been there, myself. I tried to get
Oprah
tickets once, but I swear that woman is harder to get in to see than God on Judgment Day. Of course, it’s probably just as well, seeing as how Lyle thinks she’s one of those liberals.” She flashed a smile. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being Liberal—I’m pretty liberal-minded myself.”

“
Liberal
” wasn’t the word Faith would use to describe Shirlene. Flamboyant and vivacious seemed to fit much better. Or possibly bountiful, considering everything about the woman was abundant—from her piles of blond hair to her ample breasts. From the lavishly decorated home to the copious diamonds that crowded her long, slim fingers. She was the complete polar opposite of Faith—a tall, passionate nonconformist who had no trouble speaking her mind.

“So you ready to tell old Shirlene all about what’s been going on between you and Slate?”

Faith’s face flamed, and Shirlene chuckled.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, honey. You aren’t the first woman to melt from just a glance of those hazel eyes, and you won’t be the last. Lyle may have money, but Slate has what all Texans covet.”

“An ego the size of the state.” Faith’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Shirlene smirked. “Well, that, too. But I was talking about a quick wit—a tall, athletic body—dazzling good looks—and an arm that can throw a fifty-yard touchdown pass under the pressure of a full-out defensive blitz.”

“Oh, brother.” Faith leaned her head back on the couch, suddenly extremely tired. Or maybe just depressed over having had sex with some kind of a West Texas Casanova. How stupid could she get? Her first clue should’ve been the condom that dropped from his truck visor.

“That’s it?” Shirlene set down her drink on the beautiful glass and wood sculpture that served as a coffee table. “That’s all you’re gonna say on the subject? Damn, you’re as bad as Hope—she never did like talking about her love life.” Leaning down, she slipped off her sky-high turquoise stilettos before she wiggled back on the couch and tucked her feet beneath her. “Still, she and I used to have some times. Of course, we didn’t drink margaritas out of fancy crystal glasses in a fancy house—more like sloe gin out of a bottle in the front seat of her mama’s old Buick. But it was still a hoot.”

“So I guess you’ve known Hope a long time,” Faith said.

Shirlene glanced over at her and cocked an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s something wonderful. Believe me, honey, being friends with your sister can be extremely tedious at times. Besides, our lives haven’t been all wine and roses. Not when we grew up on the south side of town—Hope with Jenna and Burl, and me with my mama and my big brother, Colt.” Her smile dimmed. “Times were hard back then. We were what you might call trailer trash, although we didn’t know it. We thought the broken-down vehicles in our front yards were put there for us to
play in. And the tall weeds grown just for hide-and-seek. Hell, I didn’t know I was poor until I started school and realized that most kids had shoes without holes in them.”

The picture Shirlene painted wasn’t exactly what Faith had visualized. Not only was it hard to imagine Shirlene, with her diamonds and designer jeans, living in a rundown trailer park, but also Hope—the town sweetheart. Faith knew Jenna and Burl weren’t wealthy, but she hadn’t realized they’d been so poor.

While Faith hadn’t been spoiled, she’d had the best quality shoes and clothing, the best educational toys on the market, and a well-tended backyard with a little pink and white playhouse her father had built for her fifth birthday. Once she’d reached an age when she no longer used it, her father had stored his gardening tools in it. And when he passed away, she had gone out and sat amid the trowels and bags of fertilizer and wept for the man who’d spent so many hours building it for the daughter he loved.

A daughter he would never have given away.

“Of course, they didn’t stay as dirt-poor as we were,” Shirlene continued. “When Hope was six, Burl got a job on an oil rig, and Jenna got a job doing bookkeeping for the Feed and Seed. That’s when they moved into town. Soon after, Tessa, Jenna Jay, and Dallas showed up.”

Shirlene had mentioned Hope’s siblings during breakfast, but Faith was still having trouble processing the information. She had always dreamed of being part of a big family—and now it seemed she had one. Of course, in her dreams, she hadn’t been the outcast no one seemed to want.

“That house was always brimming with kids.” Shirlene reached for her margarita again. “Slate and I practically
lived there. Of course, Slate didn’t show up until middle school.” After taking a sip, she tipped her head in thought. “I remember the first day he swaggered into school. Even at thirteen, he was drop-dead gorgeous. And that charm. Man alive, he had charm. I thought half the girls were going to pass out the first time he spoke. Hope and I had our very first fight over who would get to sit next to him. Of course, Hope won.” She shook her gorgeous blond hair. “That girl won any contest she entered, even if she didn’t particularly want it.”

Faith lifted her head up from the couch cushion. “She didn’t want Slate?”

“Oh no, she wanted Slate. But she could’ve done without Miss Hog Caller of Haskins County. Burl was the one who entered her in that every year, and every year, I got to hear her complain about it. Of course, Hope didn’t complain to anyone else. She’s not a complainer—more of a pain-in-the-butt overachiever.”

“So Slate and Hope were…” It was hard to get the word out. “An item.”

“Were? Oh, honey, to this town Hope and Slate are still an item.”

Fighting down a fresh wave of anger, Faith picked up her margarita and drained it. When she set the glass back down, Shirlene was smiling.

“It’s not anything to get upset about. To this town I’m still Shirlene Lomax, the poor little white trash girl that lives out on Grover Road.”

Brushing the salt from her lips, Faith glanced around at the tall ornate ceilings, the multipaned windows, and the intricate marbled floors. “White trash? Have they ever been here?”

“Every Christmas. But change is hard for them to accept.”

“Obviously. No matter what I say, I’m still Hope.”

“Well, you do look exactly like her.” Her green eyes ran over Faith. “If Jenna hadn’t called, I might’ve been fooled.”

“I might physically look like her, but I certainly don’t sound or act like her.”

“Sound, no. Act?—Now there, I think you’re mistaken. I think you act quite a bit like Hope. You’re not as loud or as ornery, but you’re just as pigheaded.”

“I’m not pigheaded.” The words came out sounding like a belligerent teenager’s.

“Of course you are. Otherwise, you’d give up trying to change this town’s mind and enjoy your stay. Bramble folks are good folks once you get to know them—including your mama and daddy.”

“I don’t want to get to know my—Jenna and Burl. In fact, I’ll be lucky if I never see them again.”

Shirlene topped off her margarita from the pitcher that sat in the middle of the coffee table. “If I’ve learned anything from this crazy life of mine, it’s never say never. Besides, since your own parents are gone, you never know when you’ll need an extra set.” When Faith opened her mouth to argue, Shirlene lifted a hand. “I get it—you want nothing to do with them. All you want to do is find Hope. But I gotta tell you, honey. That might be easier said than done. Hope hasn’t exactly been receptive to visitors since moving to LA. In fact, she’s been downright evasive.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll want to see
me
.” Faith sounded a lot more confident than she felt. “And while I appreciate
your hospitality, Shirlene, I’m going to California—even if I have to take a plane.”

Unfortunately, before the words were even out, she realized her credit cards were in her suitcase, put there as a precaution against the rest-stop muggings Aunt Jillian had warned her about. She had a grand total of twenty-three dollars and change in her wallet. Certainly not enough for a plane ticket—or even a bus. She could always call her aunt and have her wire money. But if she asked for money, she would need to give an explanation. And there was no way to explain the Twilight Zone she had landed in, not without causing her aunt to call out the National Guard.

And she wasn’t ready to do that yet.

At least not until she’d exhausted all other avenues of escape.

Shooting a quick glance at her hostess, Faith cleared her throat. “I was wondering if you could loan me some money, Shirlene—just until I get my car back.”

“I’d love to help you out, honey. But—”

“I understand. You have to live in this town. No doubt they’d lynch you if they found out you’d helped me.” Defeated, Faith flopped back on the couch.

Shirlene snorted. “That’s doubtful, since Lyle employs half the town. Besides, that’s not why I won’t help you.”

“Then why?”

“Because I’m as pigheaded as you are. And I think you’ve got a lot of unfinished business here to take care of before you go traipsing off to California.”

“Great.” At that point, Faith might’ve gotten up and left, if the tequila hadn’t sapped the last of her strength. Besides, where was she going to go when the entire town seemed dead set on holding her hostage?

Leaning in, Shirlene sent her a bright smile. “Now don’t look so downhearted, honey. West Texas might not be Hollywood, but we’ve got our fair share of entertainment—not to mention a pisspot full of smokin’ hot cowboys.”