Honky Tonk Christmas (11 page)

Read Honky Tonk Christmas Online

Authors: Carolyn Brown

BOOK: Honky Tonk Christmas
8.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Sharlene liked the last song. It talked about having his toes in the water, his ass in the sand, and a cold beer in his hand. She’d like to take a long vacation where the waters were clear and there was nothing between her and sky but ocean. After a couple of days in Corn, she’d be ready for a trip to the sand and a cold beer. Iraq sounded good compared to Corn.

Then things got so busy that she and Tessa didn’t have time to talk about anything other than mixed drinks and beers. It was like that record-breaking Saturday night that she decided to open the new room as soon as possible and christen it at the Christmas party in December. She would definitely need to hire a third bartender. Luther said the parking lot was jam packed all night and the line waiting to get a foot in the door was all the way out to the new addition. At closing more than a hundred people still hadn’t gotten past the porch.

She glanced at Loralou. Maybe she’d be interested in making a few extra dollars.

“No, wouldn’t ever work,” Sharlene muttered. The woman was smitten and Kent was about to feel old Cupid’s arrow piercing his little heart.

At five minutes until two Luther unplugged the jukebox and pointed at the clock. Amidst moans and groans, the customers left and Tessa wiped down the bar one more time before she swung the doors open at the end of the bar and joined Luther.

“Have fun in Ardmore,” Sharlene said as Tessa and Luther started out the door.

Tessa held up the keys to the Honky Tonk. “Don’t rush back. I’ll open and you can close.”

“Thanks, Tess.”

“Keep your running shoes right handy. You might need them if your whole family gangs up on you.”

“Got ’em packed. It’s not me that’ll need to outrun ’em though. It’s Holt. Bless his heart, he doesn’t have a clue.”

“Don’t tell him. He’d back out. Good night,” she called as she and Luther disappeared out into the night.

Sharlene popped the top off a beer and carried it to the nearest table. She usually waited until morning to clean up but that night she started in as soon as she locked the door. The mess wasn’t too bad considering the amount of people who’d come and gone in the six-hour shift, but it still took until almost four to get it in shape for Tessa to open on Monday evening.

Chapter 6

The sun was making a glorious entrance on the eastern horizon when Holt pulled up in the Honky Tonk parking lot. By the time afternoon arrived it would be another hot day. The addition was a skeleton with a roof but it was coming along very well. Even if they did get rain for a whole week, he’d still meet his deadline. He stepped out of the pickup truck, shook the legs of his jeans down over his boot tops, and ran his fingers through his dark hair. When he stepped up on the porch, Sharlene opened the Honky Tonk door and set her bags out.

She wore an emerald green sleeveless western cut shirt with lace accents, a belt with a double heart rhinestone buckle, and snug fitting jeans. Her boots were shined to a high gloss and the same color green as her shirt. A chunky rhinestone heart pendant on a silver chain dropped down between her breasts. Just looking at her made his mouth go as dry as if he’d just eaten a sawdust and dirt sandwich and washed it down with a healthy dose of alum laced iced tea.

He tried to whistle but it came out too weak to be a whistle and sounded more like a dying groan. “You look very nice today.”

“Thank you. You look mighty fine yourself,” she said. His boots had been polished jet black, his jeans creased and starched and bunched up just right over his boot tops, and his dark brown hair feathered back. He wore the same turquoise plaid western shirt that he’d had on the night he came to the Honky Tonk and the colors brought out the green in his eyes. He tipped his black hat when she complimented him and she caught a whiff of his aftershave and almost melted at his feet in a puddle of whining hormones. Stetson aftershave and a Stetson cowboy hat both on a morning when she hadn’t had enough sleep. What sin had she committed to be punished like that?

Damn! Damn! Damn! She had no time for any kind of relationship in her busy life. She’d finally gotten where she wanted to be and her roots ran deeper than any of the previous bartenders at the Tonk. Besides, there was that business in Iraq and if she told him the whole story, he wouldn’t be available anyway. Her conscience argued that she should spit out the fact that she was a shooter in the army right then and there and see what happened. But she didn’t want to arrive in Corn without him and the kids. Her mother would hang her from the nearest pecan tree.

“Perfect timing. You packed light.” He was amazed that words flowed from his addled brain to his mouth and he could speak intelligently.

“It’s just for one day and I didn’t know how much room you had.” He might not hear the heat from her unnaturally high-pitched voice but she dang sure felt it.

He pointed to the back of the truck. “I put the cover on in case it rains so nothing would get wet. I threatened to put the kids back there if they weren’t good.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a brilliant smile. “Shame on you!”

He opened the tailgate, slid her duffle bag under the cover, and snapped the tailgate back shut. When he rounded the end of the truck to open the door for her she was already in the passenger’s seat and talking to the children.

He kept walking and crawled in his side, sending another wave of the aroma of his cologne her way. She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, savoring the sight of him all cleaned up and smelling like heaven.

He fastened his seat belt and started the truck. “Okay, I know we’re going north but which way is best? I’m not sure where Corn is. Somewhere up in the panhandle?”

“Not that far. It’s just west of the middle of the state. First you go to Wichita Falls, then to Vernon, and then I’ll tell you which turns to make. Can’t ever remember the highway names but I can get there blindfolded in the middle of a…”

“Shalaka storm?” His eyes glittered.

“What?” she asked.

“One of those things in Iraq.”

“Shalma or Sharqi. But I was about to say a blizzard. I’d rather face off with snow as sand,” she said.

“How far is it?” Judd asked.

“Five hours. Member, that’s what Uncle Holt said. Five hours. That’s two movies or ten times watching cartoons,” Waylon said.

“But that’s forever,” Judd moaned.

“Just think how long you get to play with the kids when you get there then it won’t seem so long,” Sharlene said.

“Okay,” Judd sighed. “Let’s color. I betcha I can stay in the lines better than you can.”

“Can not!”

“Can too and I don’t color hair purple and green, either,” Judd said.

“Well, I don’t color it pink!” Waylon shot back at her.

“The joys of parenting,” Holt said.

“There were five of us acting like that most of the time in a car. I usually sat between Momma and Daddy in the front seat and all four boys were in the back. Now I understand why we never went anywhere five hours away,” Sharlene said.

“What was the longest distance you’d been before you moved to Dallas?”

“I left home right out of high school and I’d never been out of the state of Oklahoma. My grandparents were raised in Corn, so were my parents. Both sets of my grandparents are still alive and farming still yet. So I went from Corn to army to Dallas.”

Holt twisted his neck around and looked at her. “You’ve got grandparents still alive?”

She nodded.

“And you haven’t been home to see them in how long?”

“I was there for Christmas.”

He slowly shook his head. “Shame on
you
!”

“Don’t you talk to me like that! How long has it been since you’ve seen your folks?”

“My grandparents died when I was a little kid. My parents both died the year that Callie, the twin’s mother, graduated from high school. They never saw their grandchildren. Car crash got Dad. Momma died with a brain aneurism. She was washing dishes and gone before she hit the floor. Don’t take family for granted, Sharlene. Things can change pretty damn quick.”

She felt horrible that she’d been so rude. “I’m sorry. How old were they?”

“Dad was seventy and Momma was sixty-eight. They were both older than most parents with kids our age but they didn’t marry until they were past thirty,” he explained.

“My mother was sixteen when she and Daddy married. He was twenty. By the time she was my age, she had five kids,” Sharlene said.

Holt’s eyes twinkled when he grinned. “You really are behind, aren’t you?”

They made it all the way to Wichita Falls before Judd began to squirm and fuss about needing to go to the bathroom.

“How far is it, Uncle Holt? I really, really got to go,” Judd said.

“And I’m hungry. Can we get some pancakes at McDonald’s?” Waylon asked.

“I don’t want pancakes. I want eggs,” Judd said.

“How about you? Are you hungry? Do you need to find a little girls’ room?” Holt asked Sharlene as he took the next exit advertising a McDonald’s.

“Both,” she answered.

Holt pulled into a parking space and Judd fumbled with the seat belt. She jumped out of the truck, grabbed Sharlene’s hand, and tugged on it. Sharlene jogged along beside her all the way inside where Judd came to a screeching halt and looked up at Sharlene.

“Where is it?” she whispered.

One glance toward the back and she saw the signs pointing toward restrooms. “This way.”

When they were in the ladies’ room Judd jerked her shorts down and sat down on the nearest potty without shutting the door. “You look pretty today,” she said as she swung her feet.

“Well, thank you, so do you. I’m going in this stall right here. When you get finished wash your hands and do not leave the bathroom without me,” Sharlene said.

“Okay. Why?”

“Because Waylon and Holt might not be out in the restaurant yet and you wouldn’t know where to go,” Sharlene explained.

“I like you,” Judd raised her voice. “I wish you would come live with us.”

Sharlene gasped. “I like you and Waylon too, but I have a job at the Honky Tonk and I can’t live with you.”

“You don’t like Uncle Holt? He’s nice and he knows how to cook and wash clothes. I bet he would even make you macaroni and cheese and he don’t use that kind in a box; he makes it with real cheese and butter. I bet if you lived with us he’d make you some and maybe even hot dogs. I’m going to wash my hands now and then I’ll wait right by the door for you,” Judd announced.

“Thank you.” Sharlene was glad that six-year-old little girls didn’t wait for answers to their questions. Of course she liked Holt but wild horses or promises of riches could never drag the words from her mouth aloud. Simply seeing Holt all dressed up that morning and then sitting so close to him for a couple of hours had already shaken the devil out of her resolve to keep Holt completely across a barbed wire fence from anything more than friendship.

“It won’t do a bit of good anyway because I’d have to be honest and that would send the best man in the world off in a dead run,” she muttered as she flushed and went to the sink to wash her hands. Judd pushed the button on the dryer and she held her hands under it until they were dry. Then she pulled a hairbrush from her purse and did what she could with her curly hair. She reapplied a coat of lipstick and leaned in closer to the bathroom mirror to check her eye makeup, running a finger under the lower lashes to smooth out the liner.

“I do not need complications and Holt Jackson is an enormous complication,” she whispered.

“Uncle Holt isn’t one of them things, whatever they are. Now you are beautiful. I used to tell my momma that when she fixed her eyes in the bathroom,” Judd said.

Sharlene blushed and hoped that Judd didn’t spit out the news that Sharlene was talking to herself in the mirror. “And I’m sure she appreciated it. Are we ready to go eat now?”

Judd reached up for Sharlene’s hand.

“I’m hungry to death,” she said dramatically.

Waylon and Holt were sitting at the nearest booth from the bathroom doors and Waylon sighed deeply when he saw them. “I thought you’d stay in there forever. I’m so hungry I could eat cold mashed potatoes.”

“That’s pretty hungry since you don’t like mashed potatoes when they get the least bit cold,” Holt said.

He’d stolen long glances at Sharlene all morning, but seeing her standing there made him want to take her on a real date, not just a hot chocolate or watching the clouds type of date. Every afternoon when she and the kids went inside her apartment for a nap and snacks, he wanted to go with them. When she sat in the ratty old lawn chair with her notebook and pens, he wanted to sit beside her and ask about her writing career. In the evenings when he left he wished she was going home with him. But common sense told him that the children did not need a bartender for their role model. Still, no woman had ever set his heart to racing and his hands to itching like Sharlene did when he held her.

“Are we going to eat or just sit here?” Waylon asked.

“I was trying to decide what I want to eat,” Holt said.

“Well, I want pancakes and Judd wants eggs. Can we tell the lady while you think about it?” Waylon asked.

“I want pancakes too,” Sharlene said. “Momma’s making ham for dinner.”

“Ham?” Holt stood up and followed the kids to the counter.

“You don’t eat ham?” Sharlene asked.

“Yes, I do,” he said.

Granted he’d been thinking about Sharlene rather than listening to her when she told him what they’d be doing at her family gathering, but he could have sworn that the next day was when the whole clan arrived for a get-together.

“Both. Sunday dinner is always a family thing at Momma’s. My brother’s wives all bring a couple of side dishes or desserts. Nothing is ever laid in stone since new recipes are always cropping up,” Sharlene said.

“I want pancakes,” Waylon told the cashier.

Holt hurried to the counter to order for him and both children then turned back to Sharlene. “What do you want?”

“Pancakes. The meal deal. Orange juice instead of coffee.” She fished in her purse and handed Holt a twenty dollar bill.

He shook his head. “Put that away. I’ll buy breakfast if we’re having ham for dinner.”

“The deal was that you’d provide transportation and I’d provide food,” she argued.

“That was before I realized there would be that much food. I’m just leveling the playing field here,” he said.

She put the money in her purse. He didn’t have any idea that it would take a hell of a lot more than pancakes to level out the hills and rough spots. Larissa once said that the heart would have what it wanted or else the person it lived in would be miserable. When she got back to Mingus, Sharlene intended to have a long sit-down conversation with her heart. It got its way when it didn’t want to stay in Corn and marry her high school sweetheart. It got its way when it wanted adventure instead of a home and children. It got its way big-time when it got the Honky Tonk. So it could damn well be satisfied with past victories and stop aggravating her about Holt Jackson.

All that went into the trash can was empty containers and plates when they’d finished eating. Judd and Waylon hadn’t wasted a single bite of food and they’d sucked their milk cartons completely dry just to make noise. They’d barely gotten settled back in the truck and headed west toward Vernon when Waylon grabbed his pillow and shoved it up against the back door.

“Shhhh,” Judd said. “Waylon is sleeping.”

“I don’t suppose you need to rest your eyes for a little bit, do you?” Holt asked.

“I’m not sleepy, but if I put my pillow on Waylon’s side and lay on it, it’ll keep him from waking up,” she said.

Holt looked up in the rearview mirror and talked to Judd. “Well, we wouldn’t want him to wake up, would we? He gets pretty grouchy if he wakes up too soon.”

“If he’s grouchy, he’ll color outside the lines and get mad at me when I don’t. I’ll just keep him asleep for a little while and then he’ll be nice.” She snuggled in next to his side and shut her eyes.

Sharlene poked a finger in Holt’s arm. “You’re a sneaky son of a gun.”

“Parenting takes being sneaky,” he said. “I’m just repeating tricks my mother used on me and Callie when we were kids.”

“How much older are you than Callie?”

“Four years. She would have been twenty-four in June but she died a few weeks before her birthday. She was eighteen when the twins were born. I’m twenty-eight. And you?”

Other books

The Bad Samaritan by Robert Barnard
Friends With Benefits by Kelly Jamieson
Why Dogs Chase Cars by George Singleton
Cross Draw by J. R. Roberts
Electric City: A Novel by Elizabeth Rosner
Blackwater Sound by James W. Hall