Texas Rose Forever (Texas Rose Ranch #1) (12 page)

“Your grandmother sounds like good people.” He grinned. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Maybe someday you will.” It wasn’t that she didn’t think they would get along, it was that recently Grammie had gone from weird to downright odd. Since her grandmother had joined that Wicca coven, all her Christian friends had hit the road. Then again, dancing naked in her backyard on sun and moon feast days had probably alienated the neighbors. If CanDee ever made it big in publishing, she was definitely fencing in her grandmother’s backyard. “Just don’t take food from her.”

“Why? Don’t you think she’ll like me?” He shot her the little-boy sad eyes. “I’m good with grandmothers.”

“I’m sure she’ll love you, but now she’s vegan. I don’t think there’s any risk of her poisoning you, but she could tofu you to death.” CanDee loved meat and couldn’t think why anyone would give it up. “You can’t throw a rock in Austin without hitting a vegan.”

“That’s funny since I’m pretty sure they only eat rocks.” He laughed.

She nodded. “Not all rocks. I don’t think they can eat fossils since they used to be animals.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I bet you’re right. I dated a vegan once . . . she hated the Brazilian steakhouse I took her to. I knew right then, there wouldn’t be a second date.” He closed his laptop, moved it to the side, and pulled her into his lap. “So what’s this I hear about you not wearing any underpants?”

“I forgot to throw some clean ones in my bag.” She pulled at the hem of her dress. “After that fantastic shower, I didn’t want to put on the ones I wore over.”

“That shower was pretty fantastic.” His grin was drop-dead sexy. “It’s hard to pinpoint the highlight. I enjoyed watching you wash your hard-to-reach places almost as much as I liked backing you up against the window and experiencing your hard-to-reach places.”

One of his hands inched the hem of her dress up while the other dug in his front jeans pocket. “You know . . . I’ve never had sex in this parlor.”

“Really?” She looked around inspecting the parlor. “So, what’s your plan?”

She repositioned herself so that she was straddling him. His free hand slipped under the hem of her cotton summer dress and found nothing but her.

“I like you bare-assed.” One finger dipped inside her. “Nice.”

The other hand came out of his pocket with a palm full of condoms.

“Planning ahead?” She sat up on her knees, giving him better access.

“More like wishful thinking.” He dipped another finger in and her hips picked up the rhythm of his hand. “You like this?”

She licked her lips. “Very much.”

“Why don’t you let down those tiny excuses for straps and pull down the front of that dress so I can get to you. Then I want you to lie back and watch me play with your body.” His gaze fastened on the outline of her hard nipples through the dress.

“You like giving direction, don’t you?” she cooed. She was fine taking direction—some of the time.

She pulled one strap over her shoulder and then the other and eased the elastic-backed dress down to her waist. Since the dress had a shelf bra, there was nothing between her chest and him.

“I see that you follow directions well.” He stared at her breasts like a hungry man eyeing up his next meal.

“Sometimes.” She grabbed the condom from him, backed off his lap, and knelt in front of him. She ripped the condom open and smiled up at him.

“W-w-what are you doing?” His stammer was charming.

“Not following your directions. Safety first.” She took the condom in her mouth and went for his belt.

His eyes turned huge. “I like the rebellious side of you that doesn’t follow instructions. As long as you understand that I’m in charge.”

She was willing to let him believe that he was in charge . . . some of the time.

CHAPTER 12

Covertly Cinco watched CanDee sort through the boxes as he pretended to work on his laptop. The sex break they’d taken an hour or so ago had been incredible. She still wasn’t wearing any underpants, so keeping his mind on the massive amount of busywork that went with running the cattle portion of the Texas Rose was impossible. Maybe it was time to hire an assistant.

Who was this Phillip and how could he find out the asshole’s last name? He’d taken everything from CanDee and there had to be something that Cinco could do to help her. She’d lived in her car. The thought made him physically ill. She’d been alone and homeless and probably scared. Acid rolled around in his stomach. It felt like he’d eaten a gallon of extra-spicy chili.

All because of Phillip.

Cinco’s hands fisted at his sides and more than anything he wanted to beat the shit out of her ex. What kind of self-centered asshole treated a woman—especially one as funny and kind and intelligent and beautiful as CanDee—or anyone—that way? Since Cinco had no idea what Phillip looked like, he imagined that he was some weasel-faced, pansy-assed, weak-chinned motherfucker with soft hands and zero testosterone.

He closed his laptop and gave up the pretense of work in favor of just watching CanDee. He liked having her in his house. She filled it with energy and life. Maybe he could get her to stay a while . . . move some of her things over? It wasn’t like she was moving in, just spending the nights she was here with him. How did he get her to think that it was her idea?

“Oh my God.” She held a brownish picture up for him to see. “It’s Mel and Edith on their wedding day. I recognize the dress.”

She brought it over to him. “Why is Mel dressed as a man?”

He took the picture from her. “The last time I saw this, I was a child. It never registered then.”

“I wonder if Mel was always dressed as a man.” CanDee sat next to him and folded her long legs under her. “When I was researching something—I don’t remember what—I found a story about a stagecoach driver who was known for his hard drinking and bad temper. When he died, the coroner found out that he was actually a she. Apparently, she was the first woman to vote for president.”

“That’s interesting.” He’d have to google that. “I don’t know if Mel always dressed like a man or just for that day so she could get married to Edith.”

“Cross-dressing was probably more common in the Old West than we think.” She took the picture and analyzed it.

“Cross-dressing? Wait a minute.” He remembered Edith had written in her journal that Mel was just more comfortable in men’s clothes. It was kind of cross-dressing. “I don’t think Mel was a cross-dresser, I think she was just more comfortable dressed as a man.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” CanDee quirked an eyebrow.

He thought about it. “I guess you’re right.”

He draped his arm around the back of the sofa. “Interesting. We have a cross-dresser in the family.”

“Is that hard for you? How do you think your parents will feel when it comes out?” CanDee’s gold-brown eyes held nothing but concern.

“Are you kidding? My mother will be so happy. We’re all pretty sure that Rowdy is gay. He’s a big flirt but he doesn’t date but once a year when he goes out of town for a”—he threw up some air quotes—“wine festival, but there isn’t one. Mom’s convinced that he’s so in the closet that he only sets himself free one week a year. Short of coming out and asking him if he’s gay, we’ve all bent over backwards to let him know that he’s loved and all we want is for him to be happy.”

“That’s very progressive of you.” CanDee didn’t sound judgmental, but a little shocked.

He shrugged. “Family is family. I love all of my brothers for who they are and I want the best for them.”

“I feel the same way.” She nestled into him. “I hope when I have kids, they feel comfortable enough with me and themselves to tell me anything.”

“You want kids?” It was an odd question that felt strange on his lips, but it was better to get those things out in the open at the beginning of a relationship because he’d been down this road before.

“Of course. I want a whole house full. Being an only child was kind of lonely.” Her stomach rumbled and she put her hand over it. “Sorry, it’s been a long time since I ate that roast beef sandwich.”

The more he found out about her, the more he liked her.

“How do you feel about chili?” He was content to snuggle with her on the sofa for the next two weeks, but his woman was hungry, so he needed to feed her.

“That all depends. Does it involve crackers?” Her stomach rumbled again.

“Absolutely. Although, I hope you’re not talking about those sissified butter crackers because out here in the country we eat saltines.” He stood and gently pulled her up next to him.

“You’re a good man. Chili requires saltines. Now, if we could just get you back on track with the Double Stuf Oreos, you’d be the perfect man.” She threw a hand up. “Wait, I spoke too soon. Do you snore? It’s not a deal breaker because it can be fixed, but I’m going to have to stand firm on the Double Stuf Oreos.”

“Nope, no snoring . . . at least that I know of, and trust me, Naomi would have let me know.” It was hard to keep the hatred out of his voice.

“We should put your ex and my ex in a cage and see who comes out alive.” She smiled broadly. “My money’s on Naomi.”

“Me too. Especially since I picture Phillip as a Shakespeare-spouting, hipster wannabe with too much self-importance who spends his free time at poetry slams and debating correct comma usage.” He realized that he actually hated the little shit more than he hated his ex-wife.

“You nailed it . . . that’s him, down to the grammar nazi. Once I tried to tell him that grammar wasn’t what made a book good and he didn’t talk to me for a week.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Nice call.”

Settling his hand on the small of her back, he led her to the kitchen.

“How about a beer while I put together the chili?” He nodded to the fridge as he dropped his hand and headed to the pantry.

He grabbed three cans of tomatoes, a couple of onions, a head of garlic, chili powder, and cumin. He dumped his armload down on the kitchen island. He walked to the summer kitchen off to the left, flipped up the top of the chest freezer and pulled out three pounds of ground meat.

“That’s a crap load of meat.” She handed him a Shiner. “That’s got to be, like, a side of beef.” She did the math. “I guess you don’t cattle ranch for fun.”

“There’s always meat around here.” He reached into the freezer for the container of his secret ingredient.

“And that’s just one of the many things I like about you.” She held her Shiner bottle up to clink with his.

He obliged.

“What’s that?” She pointed to the container as she took the meat from him.

“Secret ingredient.” He led her back into the kitchen and set the plastic container on the island.

She dumped the frozen meat down next to it. “What do I win if I guess what the secret ingredient is?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?” He popped the frozen meat into the microwave and hit defrost.

Her lips pursed as she mulled over her prize. “Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups moved to the fridge permanently.”

He held out his beer bottle again. “Done.”

He set it down, pulled a chef’s knife from the butcher block, grabbed a cutting board, and headed back to the island. “What do I get if you lose?”

“What do you want?” Gently, she took the knife and the cutting board from him. She laid the cutting board on the island, picked up an onion, sliced off the top, and peeled away the skin. “How do you want these cut?”

She was helping? The thought never occurred to him that she would help him. It was more than nice. “Finely diced.”

“You got it.” She moved the onion skin to the side and sliced the onion.

He sipped his beer and watched her work. He’d watched her a lot today and he still hadn’t gotten his fill. Especially since she was wearing a short skirt and now that he knew she was minus those underpants, he waited for that skirt to ride up.

“Did you decide?” She peeled the second onion.

“Decide on what?” What had they been talking about before?

“What you win if I can’t guess the secret ingredient.” She diced the onion.

He opened the fridge, picked up a couple of bell peppers, and closed the door. “If I win, your underpants are gone . . . while you’re under my roof.”

“You’re kind of pervy . . . l like that about you.” She set down the knife and picked up her beer. She held it out. “Done.”

He clinked her bottle.

“You’re never going to guess.” He set the bell peppers next to the diced onions. “Feel like dicing those too?”

“Absolutely.” She picked up the knife. “And I have excellent deductive powers. Those Reese’s are as good as refrigerated.”

“Stretch, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He opened the cabinet next to the commercial stove and pulled out a large cast-iron Dutch oven. He set it on the front left burner and turned on the gas to high.

CanDee finished dicing the peppers, set the knife down, and picked up the plastic container. “I can tell from the packaging that this is a container used for restaurant takeout.”

She popped the lid off, smelled it, and then scraped her thumbnail across the surface and licked her thumb. “Is this what I think it is?”

“That all depends . . . what do you think it is?” He grinned. She was never going to guess . . . not in a million years.

“Do you have the chips that go with it?” She smiled it again. “It’s salsa and I know exactly where you got it from.”

“How is that possible?” There was no way.

“Does your family know that you drive to Austin for your salsa?” She looked like the cat who’d eaten the canary.

His mouth fell open and he realized that the arm holding his beer that had been on its way to his mouth hung in midair. “How did you know?”

“This is Vivo’s salsa. Do you have the extra crispy chips that go with it?” She looked around.

“Unfortunately, I don’t. This is the last of the salsa I bought before they closed down. How in the hell did you know that it’s Vivo’s salsa?” It was the best salsa in Texas, but the restaurant had closed down, so his supply was at an end.

“It has a distinctive color and odor.” She set the salsa down and picked up her beer. “They opened back up.”

The microwave dinged so he opened it, carefully took out the meat, and dumped it into the hot pan. “Don’t toy with me, woman.”

He picked up the cutting board and dumped the diced veggies in with the meat. Then he picked up a spatula and mixed everything together.

“I’m not toying with you. They reopened a couple of months ago. New owners, but everything tastes the very same. Best chicken tortilla soup.” She closed her eyes like she was imagining a bowl.

“And the nachos . . . don’t forget the nachos.” His mouth watered. “I don’t suppose you’d be up for a road trip sometime soon?”

He could practically taste the crispy chips, picadillo, beans, and cheese on his tongue.

“Absolutely. I’m always up for a road trip. Hell, I’m in just for the chips and salsa. I almost cried when they reopened.” She picked up the veggie trimmings and tossed them in the garbage can under the sink and then picked up the cleaning wipes next to the trash can, plucked one out, and wiped down the island. “Oh wait, did you need the garlic chopped?”

She tossed the cleaning wipe in the trash and went back to the island.

“Yes, three cloves, please.” He stirred the chili. It was nice cooking with her. She didn’t wait to be asked to do something, she just jumped right on in there and did it.

“Does your family know that you regularly go to Austin?” With her thumbnail, she peeled off three cloves of garlic, placed that large chef’s knife on top of the garlic, and brought her fist down hard on the flat of the knife, crushing the garlic.

“Yes, in fact the whole state knows that I regularly go to Austin.” He pulled himself up to his full height and held out his hand. “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m your local state representative for district seventy-three, Lacy Kendall Rose V.”

“No way.” She minced the garlic.

“Really. The fine citizens of district seventy-three voted me into office last year. I have an office at the Capitol and everything.”

“So I’m sleeping with a politician.” Using the knife, she scooped up the garlic and brought it to the stove. “That sounds so sleazy. I draw the line at getting on my knees under your desk. A woman’s got to have a moral compass.”

He laughed. “Don’t be silly. That’s what interns are for.”

Her eyes turned huge and her hand went to her mouth.

“Wait . . . no. I don’t have any interns. I was kidding.”

She grinned. “Sucker. You’re such an easy mark.”

“You are a pain in the ass.” He pulled her to him and kissed her lightly.

He had a feeling that he would never get enough of her. The more time
he spent with her, the more time he wanted. His father had told him that a lifetime wasn’t enough with his mother. Now he understood what that meant.