Texas Rose Forever (Texas Rose Ranch #1) (4 page)

Clearly Lucy had been and still was the disciplinarian in the family. She might be tiny, but she was definitely mighty.

“Cool, a fight,” a male voice said from behind CanDee.

She turned around to find two gorgeous men who looked just alike . . . identical twins. They were closer to Rowdy’s height, had dark hair and baby blue eyes, and were in their late twenties. They smiled and matching dimples popped out on their cheeks.

“I’m Dallas,” said the twin on the right, who then he pointed to his brother. “This is Worth—well, really it’s Fort Worth, but we call him Worth.”

“You don’t have nicknames?” CanDee shook both of their hands in turn.

“No, ma’am, with names like Dallas and Fort Worth, they already
sound like nicknames.” Worth said. “Sorry about the whole stripper thing.”

“Thanks for bringing that up.” Cinco sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Next she’ll start grilling you on Double Stuf Oreos.”

“Did someone say Double Stuf Oreos?” a baby-faced bear of a man with sandy-blond hair and brown eyes asked as he walked into the dining room. “I love Double Stuf Oreos.”

“Finally, someone with taste.” CanDee held out her hand. “I’m CanDee McCain.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m San Antonio Rose, but everyone calls me T-Bone.” He was soft-spoken almost to the point of being shy.

Rowdy put him in a headlock and ruffled his hair. “This is the runt of the Rose litter.”

T-Bone had to be at least six feet tall.

CanDee turned to Lucy. “You don’t make small humans, do you?”

“Clearly their father’s DNA is dominant.” She smiled at her boys and her face held nothing but pride.

Had her mother’s face held pride when she’d looked at CanDee? Her parents’ faces were nothing but a blur. They had died when she was four, so she’d been raised by her grandmother. Grammie lived her life by her own set of rules—unfortunately those rules made sense to no one but her. Like Hallowthankmus, a combination of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Every single year, CanDee had to explain to Grammie that Christmas caroling in a Freddy Krueger mask made others uncomfortable. And, dressing up the Thanksgiving turkey as a Christmas elf wasn’t the same as turkey and dressing. After Grammie had joined that coven, Halloween got to be its own holiday again. Thank God or Gaia or whoever. Even though the loss of her parents caused a hole that she felt she’d never been able to fill, she was grateful to Grammie for making her childhood so fun . . . and weird.

“Rowdy, let your brother go.” Lucy went to slap him on the back of the head, but he was too fast for her and let his brother go. “I swear, if you’d been born first, we wouldn’t have had any other children.” She glanced at CanDee. “He was a difficult child, and it’s been downhill from there.” She laughed when she said it.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t name any of your children Austin.” CanDee smiled.

“We all went to Texas A&M. Austin is a place that we tolerate, but rarely mention.” Rowdy stepped beside her. “You’re not from Austin, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. Born and raised.” She mashed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Want me to leave now on my own power, or would throwing me out satisfy your sense of collegiate loyalty?”

Rowdy turned on the charm. “Now, Miss CanDee, we wouldn’t throw you out. We’d only suggest strongly that you vacate the premises immediately and never return.”

“Can I kill him now?” Cinco pleaded to his mother as his hand found the small of CanDee’s back again. It felt more than a little possessive, but she kind of liked it. “When I was ten, you said that one day you’d let me kill him, and today’s as good as any.”

“No murder in the living room.” His mother took everything in stride. “Take it outside.”

“She’s right. Blood is so hard to get out from between the cracks in the wood floor. Grass, on the other hand—all it takes is a hose and some water to make that mess disappear.” Either Dallas or Worth was speaking—she couldn’t tell them apart.

“I went to Texas State instead of the University of Texas. Does that help your opinion of me?” CanDee liked the big, loud Rose family. Every touch and jibe showed how much they loved each other.

“Well, that’s something.” This time it was the other twin. “I guess she can stay.”

“Let me introduce you around.” Cinco put a small amount of pressure at the small of her back, urging her forward.

CanDee looked around. Besides her and Lucy, there didn’t seem to be any other women. “Does this party seem a little male heavy?” Not that she was intimidated, it was just a little strange. She’d been to a couple of parties at the King Ranch and even they hadn’t been this XY-chromosome laden.

“Female ranch hands are hard to come by.” He shrugged. “The guys would love it if I hired more women, but cowgirls don’t grow on trees.”

A Christmas tree with cowgirls as ornaments popped into her mind. “That’s an interesting image . . . the cowgirl tree. I bet harvesting them would be difficult.”

Cinco just grinned and shook his head.

“Good to know that you’re an equal-opportunity employer.” CanDee smiled at the group of men they were approaching. “There’s something I don’t understand. There’s supposed to be an after-party, right?”

“In the bunkhouse.”

“So why didn’t your brothers hire the stripper for the after-party? Wouldn’t that have been a better choice than having her drop by this afternoon?” Not that stripper scheduling was CanDee’s forte, but a little common sense went a long way.

“Scheduling conflict. She said something about doing a CIA gig this evening.” He bit his top lip. “Just so you know, I sent her home after you walked out.”

“I bet your brothers weren’t too happy that you didn’t enjoy their present.” It was really none of her business, but she was a little relieved that he’d sent the stripper home instead of enjoying the show. It was interesting that she felt relief—or anything about someone she’d just met.

“I think it’s time my brothers and I created a new tradition that doesn’t involve strippers for my birthday.” He was dead serious.

“My birthday’s in a few weeks. Can you ask them to get me a stripper?” She grinned. “I want a dude, though, maybe dressed as a cop.”

She glanced up at him. The horror on his face was hilarious.

“And he needs to be able to dance. I don’t mean a little either. He needs to have more than two moves that he does over and over. I expect some pelvic thrusts in my direction before he yanks off the pull-away pants. It is my special day.” She had a hard time keeping the giggle out of her voice. Cinco was such an easy mark.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He sighed like his burden was great.

“You’re a good man.” She patted his cheek.

It was too early to tell, but she wanted to believe that he really was a good man.

CHAPTER 4

CanDee put a hand on Cinco’s shoulder and leaned against him as she slipped off her shoes. “I told you I was going to be crippled by the time your party was over.”

What were the chances that he’d carry her? She glanced down at her dress. It was kind of short. If he Rhett Butlered her, the bottom of her dress would hang open. If he fireman-carried her, the back of her dress would ride up. The only answer was a piggyback ride and since she wasn’t eight years old, it seemed like a bad thing to ask of a man who’d she’d only met a few hours ago.

“I’m willing to admit that the shoes were worth it.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “I could stand to see you in those shoes again.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She tried her hand at coy as she elbowed him playfully.

His cheeks turned a nice shade of red.

“Yes . . . no . . . maybe.” His voice was high and squeaky. He cleared his throat. “The man likes to do the asking.”

“You don’t get out much, do you?” She patted his upper arm. His was nothing but hard, lean muscle.

He offered her his elbow and she took it.

“I’m willing to admit I don’t date much, but I still believe that men should do the asking, open doors for women, and pick up the check.” He shrugged. “Call me old fashioned.”

“I’m not going to lie, I mostly agree with those things too, but since you haven’t asked me out yet, I’m about to change my mind.” She waited. “I’m not getting any younger here.”

“I’ll ask you out when I’m ready.” He grinned. It seemed that he was messing with her.

“So I guess now’s a bad time to bring up our sex life.” She could give as good as she got. She had a PhD in messing with people.

“What?” His voice was an octave higher than normal. He cleared his throat. “What?”

“I should tell you that I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, so when we sleep together you’re going to have to sneak out before sunup.” She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing as he led her down the front porch steps and into the cool grass covering the yard.

She noticed that he’d avoided taking her down the granite walkway and went onto the grass instead because she was barefoot.

“Wait . . . no . . . wait, what?” he sputtered. In the fading light from the porch, she could just make out the blush staining his cheeks.

“We are not sleeping together,” he whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” she whispered back.

“Because . . .” He looked around. “I don’t know.”

“So back to our sex life: you have to sneak out because I’m not walk-of-shaming it in the morning from your place. Call me old fashioned, but I think it’s the man’s responsibility to hit it and quit it before the sun comes up.” This was a relatively new rule for her since all the men she’d woken up beside in the past had betrayed her in some way. She was determined to kick the next guy out of her bed before she could wake up to find that he’d stolen her money, her car, or worse, her heart.

“What about breakfast?” He guided her around a tree.

“I’m happy to send you on your way with a tub of yogurt, but the spoon is your responsibility.” She was firm on the spoon. God knew she’d lost more than her fair share over the years.

“What if I want to stay?” His voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“Sorry. I like my space.” After her last relationship, she’d vowed to date like a man. Besides, she wasn’t going to be here that long. Her heart had been broken and she wasn’t eager to repeat that experience anytime soon. “Don’t you have another party to go to?”

“Yes.” He seemed relieved that she’d changed the subject.

She was happy to give him a reprieve . . . for now.

“I bet your next party involves lots of booze, some poker, and maybe a hooker or two. It’s a shame your stripper had a previous engagement.” She patted his arm. “I hope you have fun anyway.”

He glanced down at her. She winked at him.

“You got the liquor and cards right. No prostitutes or strippers.” He was whispering again.

So he was a prude when it came to sex . . . interesting.

“Have you ever been with a hooker?” She, however, was not a prude when it came to sex or just about anything else.

“No.” He sounded scandalized. “Have you?”

“No, but I’d love to know if they’re better at sex than a nonprofessional. I wish I knew one to ask.” She shook her head. She’d always been a live-and-let-live kind of person and she sure as heck didn’t begrudge anyone making a living. “I’d love to interview one. Do you know any?”

Abruptly, he stopped and stared down at her. “No, why would I know a prostitute?”

“You’re right. Just because you’re a man who spends a lot of time around other men doesn’t mean that you know any hookers.” She nodded. He’d caught her in a stereotype. “Sorry, it’s the writer side of me. We like to know what makes people tick.” She sucked on her bottom lip. “Mind if I ask around the bunkhouse if anyone knows a hooker?”

They resumed walking.

“Yes, I mind. I think you hanging around the bunkhouse is a bad idea
and I sure as hell don’t want you talking about”—he whispered the last
word—“hookers.”

She shook her head. They were back to whispering.

A minute or so of silence passed between them.

“So, are you going to kiss me goodnight on the porch?” She hip-bumped him.

“You’re relentless.” This time he laughed.

“I prefer
focused
.” She hunched her shoulders. “Tomayto . . . tomahto.”

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” He tried his hand at serious, but the grin on his face told another story.

“You think this was a date?” She sighed long and hard. “Maybe if we were in high school. For the love of God, you just took me to your parents’ house for dinner.” She hunched her shoulders. “You did bring me flowers, but since they were an apology, they don’t count.”

“Looks like we’re back to square one.” He looked up at the night sky. “Nice stars tonight.”

She glanced up. Out here in the middle of nowhere, light pollution wasn’t a problem. The night sky was a black velvet cape studded with millions of rhinestones. “Beautiful.”

“Wanna see something really spectacular?” He slowed their pace.

“I don’t know.” She sucked in a breath. “This isn’t where you pull out your smartphone and show me creepy pictures of your penis, is it? Because . . . been there, done that. I met a guy online. On our first date, he took me to Cheddar’s and before our waters arrived, he pulled out his phone and showed me pictures of his new hobby—penis puppetry. It was disturbing.”

“Sounds painful.” He shivered.

“You have no idea. He had little costumes. To be fair, the Cher one really did look like her.” She’d never been able to figure out how he’d gotten the black, spiked wig to stay on the head of his penis—glue? Tape? Both sounded really horrible.

“Penis puppetry aside, no, I was talking about the lookout tower.” He pointed to the sky. “It’s the best place to see the stars.”

“A lookout tower—like the kind in a castle turret where they watch for an enemy invasion?” She glanced back at the main house. Maybe there was another castle somewhere on the property? Personally, she thought one castle was more than enough.

“Not a castle tower, but a lookout tower—the kind used to spot fire before we installed cameras everywhere. My great-great-aunt had one built in the early 1900s after a fire took out the main house and several hundred acres.” He pointed off to the right. “It’s a couple of miles that way. We can take the golf cart to my house and then take my truck.”

“I’m so glad you have a truck. I’d hate to think of you tootling around in a Chevy Malibu or a Volkswagen Beetle. Don’t get me wrong, I like for people to surprise me, but that would be too big of a shock to overcome.” She leaned into him. “So, are you planning on kissing me at the top of the lookout tower?”

“This is like the Double Stuf Oreo thing, right? You’re not going to drop it.” He tried to pull off an accusatory tone, but his broad grin was a dead giveaway.

“Now that you reminded me, I need to drop by the cottage on the way.” She needed to pick up dessert.

“You’ve finally come to your senses.” He nodded to the shoes she held. “I’m going to miss those.”

“Huh?” She glanced down. “Oh yeah, I should probably pick up some different shoes while I’m there.”

He stopped at the cottage front porch steps. She clomped up and inside the cottage. She grabbed a pair of socks, some purple Converse high-tops, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

She headed back outside. Cinco opened the door for her before she could get it.

“You’re really serious about your Double Stuf Oreos.” He closed the door behind her.

“It’s time to put up or shut up, Cowboy.” She sat on the front steps and set the cookies and shoes down next to her. She unrolled the sock ball and was about to slip one on when he took the sock from her.

“Allow me.” He slipped the white sock over her left foot and then took the other and slipped it over her right. He grabbed a shoe.

“You a foot-fetish man?” She tried to keep the revulsion out of her voice.

“I take it you’re not into feet.” He slipped on the left shoe and tied it for her.

He reminded her of the shoe salesman at the mall, only he was missing that stool-shoe-rampy-thing and that flat silver metal plate thing they used to measure feet. Both made her cringe. “I’m pretty open minded when it comes to sex, but I don’t do feet. Once, I dated this guy who was really into feet. After we’d spent the day tromping around downtown Austin for South By Southwest, he took off my sandals and started sucking my toes. All I could think was how dirty my feet were and that he really shouldn’t be driving and sucking my toes at the same time.”

She couldn’t help but gag. It was nasty.

“I’m trying to picture the driving and sucking the toes, but I can’t get he mechanics down.” He slipped the shoe onto her right foot and then tied it for her. He offered her his hand to help her up.

She grabbed the Oreos and took his hand. “He had a convertible and I’m very flexible.”

Actually she’d just had her back against the door and her feet in his lap. It had started with a foot rub and things had gone downhill from there.

He guided her to a big gunmetal-gray barn. “This is where we keep the golf carts and ATVs. If you need one, just sign it out. The clipboard’s over there.” He pointed to a clipboard hanging on a nail beside a closed door with
OFFICE
spelled out in stick-on letters. “Try to return it when you’re finished so that Lefty, our mechanic, can make sure to keep it gassed up.”

“Do I want to know why his name is Lefty?” She followed him to the barn.

“I have no idea.” He lifted the small metal bar serving as a lock and pulled the sliding barn door open.

He flicked a switch and a legion of fluorescent lights flickered on. The barn had to be at least two stories and was cleaner than an operating room. Six golf carts, seven ATVs, and several other small vehicles, including an old white Ford truck, each had their own parking space. Tools hung on the back wall in perfectly outlined spaces. The gray concrete floor looked to have been freshly swept.

“Wow, Lefty is a neat freak.” Not that she knew a lot of mechanics, but she’d spent more than her fair share of time having her old Toyota Corolla repaired and she’d never seen any garage—or, for that matter, many houses—as clean as this.

“You have no idea.” Cinco stepped inside and slid behind the wheel of the closest golf cart. “Once, I didn’t park exactly in the lines and he revoked my golf cart privileges for a week. I had to walk everywhere. It sucked.”

“He works for you. How come he has so much power?” Clearly ranch politics were very complicated.

“He was my grandfather’s best friend. Lefty’s been around longer than I have. He’s family.” He turned the key and the gas-powered motor came to life. He drove it out the door and stopped a couple of feet from the barn.

CanDee pulled the barn door shut before he could jump out of the seat and help her. She liked for men to close doors for her, but she wanted to show him that she could do it too.

“I could have gotten that.” He stepped out from behind the wheel.

“I know, but it was easier for me to do it.” She walked over to the cart and took the passenger’s seat.

Cinco sat back down. He put the cart in gear and gently mashed the gas pedal.

“My house is a mile or so down that path.” He pointed back over his left shoulder and then turned the cart toward the path.

“Do you all have houses?” Clearly the family was close. They all still lived on the ranch. It was like the Kennedy Compound, only bigger and less snotty.

“Yes . . . and no.” He turned onto the path. “Over the years, many houses have been built for ranch hands and foremen and family. My house was built in 1900 for my great-great-aunt. She was quite the cattlewoman.”

He hadn’t mentioned her husband. So he’d had an old maiden great-great-aunt.

“With all of these men around, I wonder why she never married.” It was kind of sad. CanDee chewed on her bottom lip. Maybe some horrible tragedy had taken her beloved. “Was there some sort of accident that killed her fiancé?”