Cowboy Charming

by Dylann Crush

  Also by Dylann Crush

  Holiday, Texas

  All-American Cowboy

  Cowboy Christmas Jubilee

  Cowboy Charming

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2019 by Dylann Crush

  Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design by Dawn Adams/Sourcebooks

  Cover image © Rob Lang Photography, inside front cover image ©Eriklam/Getty images

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Excerpt from All-American Cowboy

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To HoneyBee, GlitterBee & BuzzleBee who make everything worthwhile.

  Chapter One

  Dixie King hoisted the tray of longnecks onto her shoulder and sashayed through a busier-than-usual Thursday-night crowd. Spring finals week must be coming to a close for the frat boys and pseudo-cowgirls who considered the Rambling Rose their personal stomping ground. Sidestepping a clean-shaven guy in a polo shirt with grabby hands, she delivered the bottles one by one to the impatient patrons.

  That right there was why her daddy never wanted her to take this job. As the resident preacher in the tiny town of Holiday, Texas, he feared for her moral safety. Funny thing was, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. Beyond the occasional ass-grabber or drunken proposition, Dixie hadn’t been involved with a man in years.

  She made her way back to the bar to snag another load. As she transferred the bottles and mugs onto the tray, a body slid onto the stool at the end of the bar.

  Presley Walker.

  She’d have known it was him by the hint of intoxicating cologne that drifted off the man in a hormone-inducing wave. If her daddy wanted to pray for someone, Presley should be at the top of the list. Although it may be too late for him. Dixie figured he might not have any morals still intact.

  “Hey, Red.” He took one of the bottles off the tray and tilted it in her direction before giving her a wink and lifting it to his lips. Even though something as simple as a smile from Presley Walker could make her thighs quiver for days, she ignored the urge to slip onto a barstool and make believe it was her mouth receiving the attention of his lips and not a mere bottle of beer. Fantasies involving Presley were just that—fantasies. She couldn’t afford to get caught up in wishing anything more would ever happen between them. She’d play off his attention like she always did—with a mixture of disdain and sass. The combination had proven effective over the years at deterring any potential advances from Holiday’s resident Romeo. Not that he’d follow through anyway. The way her daddy had treated her first long-term boyfriend had pretty much guaranteed no other eligible man in Holiday would be willing to subject himself to Pastor King’s scrutiny.

  “Red? Gosh, Presley, what wit. I haven’t heard that one before.” She rolled her eyes then grabbed the extra beer the bartender handed her. Her red hair came from her mother’s side of the family, specifically her grandmother. Too bad she hadn’t also inherited the free-spirited, devil-may-care attitude her grandma Eugenia was known for.

  “Hell, Dixie, I’m just warmin’ up.” Presley’s gaze drifted over her. The man could summon heat from an ice cube. Her skin burned under his attention. She felt like she was standing in the middle of the crowded honky-tonk in nothing but her birthday suit.

  She groaned and whirled around, ready to run the gauntlet through the handsy crowd again. She’d rather face down a room full of cocky frat boys than get stuck face-to-face with Presley Walker. Her reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with the way his blue eyes sparkled or how his mouth tipped up in a crooked grin, making heat pool in places she didn’t want to acknowledge. And everything to do with the string of X-rated dreams she’d been having over the past several months—starring who else but Holiday, Texas’s most notorious bachelor.

  Maybe she should do what her daddy had been encouraging her to do ever since she took this job—quit. But the tips were good, and working the late afternoon and evening shifts meant she could help out more at home. Besides, she needed the money if she wanted a place of her own someday. She had her heart set on opening a little artist studio where she could make and sell the handcrafted jewelry she’d been working on for the past few years. There were several other local artists in the area she’d love to feature as well. Another year or two and she’d be able to turn her dream into a reality.

  Too bad that meant having regular run-ins with the blue-eyed demon. She shook her mass of red curls, trying to dislodge the memories of last night’s dream from her head. It wasn’t like Presley would stop coming around. Not only was he the local sales rep for the liquor supplier, but his sister, Charlie, and brother-in-law, Beck, owned the Rambling Rose.

  Which meant she needed to keep him out of her head…and definitely out of her dreams.

  As she gathered another load of empties, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She balanced the tray with one hand and glanced at the screen. Charlie.

  “Hey, Dixie, I need a favor.” Charlie didn’t usually call during
a shift. She was supposed to be taking a rare night off.

  “Sure, what’s up?” Dixie liked working for Charlie. She was a fair boss and a good friend, and despite her unfortunate relations, Dixie would do anything for her, no questions asked.

  “It’s Beck. He was on his way to New York for that craft beer award ceremony and got sideswiped.” Charlie’s voice trembled.

  “Oh my gosh, is he okay?” Dixie set the tray on the bar and made her way to the office where she’d have a better chance of being able to hold a conversation.

  “Yeah. Just shook up a bit.” Charlie regained her composure. “But the trailer’s wrecked, and Baby Back got loose.”

  “Oh no. Did he catch her?” The Rambling Rose had a long history of pig mascots, and up until a year or so ago Baby Back had filled that role. Now she had a much more high-profile job as the poster pig for Beck’s pride and joy—a bacon-infused maple syrup ale.

  “Finally. But not before she caused a bit of a pileup on the highway. I’ve got to get out there and help him drive back. He sprained his wrist and won’t be able to manage the pig and the trailer on his own. I booked a flight for first thing in the morning. My dad’s going with me to help with the baby.” Charlie sighed. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to handle things while I’m gone.”

  “Oh, sure. I’d be happy to help out.” It was the least she could do. “But can’t your dad just go on his own? Or take one of your brothers with him?”

  “They’ve got too much going on. And family comes first. I’ve got to get out there and make sure he’s okay. I know it’s silly, but—”

  “I know.” Everyone in town knew about how Charlie’s high school sweetheart passed away in an accident while he was serving overseas. “But Beck will be fine.”

  “I know. I just need to see him.” Charlie cleared her throat. “And that means I need you to run the Rose while I’m gone, not just pitch in.”

  Dixie’s stomach twisted into a knotted mess. “What about Shep? Or Angelo? Or even Jinx?” Any one of the other regular employees seemed better equipped to take on the responsibility of running the oldest honky-tonk in Texas.

  “I’m asking you. Shep knows the bar. Angelo knows the kitchen. Jinx won’t be too much help. Sure, she’ll try, but she’s six months pregnant. You know more about everything than anyone. They’ll all be around pitch in.”

  Dixie took in a deep breath and nodded to herself. Charlie needed her. And if she was an expert at anything, it was pitching in when someone she cared about called on her for help. “I’ll do my best.”

  Charlie’s relief flowed through the phone. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

  “How long do you think y’all might be gone?” Dixie worked better with detailed schedules, established time frames, and clear expectations.

  “I’m not sure. We’ve got to attend the award ceremony on Sunday night, and Beck wants to stop to see his dad as long as we’re up that way. We’ll be back by next weekend for sure though.”

  Next weekend? Dixie bit back the excuses trying to fight their way free. “We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything here.”

  “Thanks so much. I’ve got to start packing, but I’ll send you an email once I get my thoughts pulled together. You’re going to be great. With the Chili Festival starting this weekend, and—”

  “The Chili Festival!” Dixie slapped a hand to her forehead. She’d all but forgotten about the first annual Rambling Rose Chili Festival. They’d invited bands and vendors from around the country to perform and set up booths for the next two weekends. The festival would culminate in what they’d been billing as one of the largest chili cook-offs in Texas.

  “You can do this, Dixie. I have faith in you.”

  Before Dixie could arrange the jumbled mess in her brain into a rational argument, a knock sounded on the office door.

  “Coming.” Dixie made her way to the door as Charlie continued to rattle off items to put on the to-do list. Thousands of people would be attending the festival. How could Dixie keep a handle on things at the Rose and still help as much as she needed to at home? She bit her lip and shook her head. Charlie couldn’t expect her to do it all on her own. It just wasn’t possible. She’d have to find someone else. Someone with more experience.

  Charlie’s voice cut through her thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s too much for one person to handle.”

  Dixie nodded. “Right. I’m glad you understand, I can’t—”

  “That’s why I arranged for some help.”

  The door opened. A head of unruly brown hair poked through, followed by those sinful blue eyes. “Hey, Red. Did you hear the good news? Looks like we’re going to be partners.”

  * * *

  Presley wanted to laugh out loud at the horror reflected on Dixie’s face. Instead, he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  “What do you say? I think we’ll make a great team.” She continued to gape at him, her mouth hanging open like an endless black hole. “Okay then. I can see you need some time to get used to the idea.” He crossed the room to take a seat and kick his boots up on the edge of the desk.

  “You sure about this?” Dixie whispered into the phone. “Presley’s not exactly the most…” Her gaze cut to him. He gave her a wink and blew her a kiss. Her cheeks flamed, coming close to matching the color of her garnet waves.

  “Why don’t you put her on speaker?” Presley suggested. Oh, this was going to be about as much fun as trying to piss into the wind. Presley wasn’t exactly in favor of working side by side with Dixie King. The poor woman didn’t know how to have fun. He’d given up flirting with her a couple of years ago. She either lacked the ability to handle some good-natured quips or her daddy had preached all the sass right out of her. But Charlie needed help, and one thing the Walker family always did was take care of their own.

  Dixie slumped into the chair next to him then scooted it a few feet away, scraping the legs on the ancient wooden planks. He let his boots drop from the edge of the desk to the floor. “I’m not gonna bite you or anything, Red. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

  She didn’t glance over at him, just set the phone on the edge of the desk and pressed the speaker button.

  “Thanks so much, to both of you, for saying you’ll help while I’m gone.” Charlie’s voice floated from the phone. Presley kept his gaze trained on Dixie. “I know putting the two of you together might not seem like a natural fit.”

  Presley snorted. Like champagne and beer. Wait, did Dixie even drink? More like seltzer water and a perfectly aged whiskey. With him being the whiskey, of course.

  Dixie’s jaw set, and she finally cast a glance his way. “I’m sure we’ll be able to handle things in a professional manner.”

  “Dixie, you’re so good with managing all the details. I know you’ll be able to keep things organized and running smoothly while I’m gone. And, Pres, you’re fantastic at managing people. I want you to make sure all the vendors and musicians are settled and comfortable.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Making people comfortable is one of my special talents.”

  “Not that comfortable. I don’t need any scandals coming out of our first chili cook-off. That’s why I’ve got you working together. Dixie’s going to keep you in line.”

  The only line Presley ever adhered to was the line for the bar. And that was only if he couldn’t figure out a way to sweet-talk his way to the front. “I don’t need a babysitter, Sis.”

  “No, but you do need someone to make sure you stay on task and don’t get—ahem—distracted.”

  Dixie’s mouth quirked up in a hint of a smile.

  “Hey, before you go getting all holier than thou, she must not trust you to work on your own either.” Presley nodded, more to himself than anyone else.

  Dixie shook h
er head. Charlie cleared her throat. “Presley, for once in your life will you grow up and act your age, not the size of your ideal Saturday night hookup’s waist?”

  That low blow made him hang his head. He wanted to deny the implication, but based on his history, his sister was right. Chasing skirts and having a good time had been his MO for so long, he’d never given her any reason to think deep down he might want something more.

  “I’ll do my part. Whatever you need. You focus on Beck and making sure my nephew is okay. Red and I will keep the place going while you’re gone. Right?” He turned the full force of his gaze on Dixie.

  She startled, whether from his serious tone or being put in the hot seat, he couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter. Working side by side with her might be about as much fun as getting a double root canal with no Novocain, but he’d do what he needed to do. For Charlie. For Beck. For the Rambling Rose.

  “Stop calling me that,” Dixie muttered into her chest. Then she turned her green eyes on him. Eyes the color of the tall grass that covered the Texas hillsides in spring. “Yes, we’ll make it work.”

  “Good,” Charlie said. “I’ll get that email together tonight and send it to both of you. Sound good?”

  Presley narrowed his eyes. “Sounds good to me.”

  Dixie stared right back. She might have more spunk than he’d given her credit for. “I’ll be on the lookout for it.”

  “Alright,” Charlie said. “Thanks again. I’ll be in touch.”

  Dixie reached for the phone. “Take care and safe travels.”

  “Bye.” Charlie ended the call.

  Before he could figure out what to say, Dixie stood and moved toward the door, still holding his gaze. “Want to meet here in the morning to talk about how we can divvy up the tasks?”

  “Sure. What time do you want me?”

  “Registration opens at noon. How about we meet at eight?”

  He checked his watch. If he left now, he might manage six hours of sleep, fairly shy of his usual seven to eight hours. “You really think we need that much time?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “I can always see if Shep or Angelo can help out if you’re not up for it.”