by Dylann Crush
He lifted a brow. So that’s how it was going to go down? She didn’t think he could pull his own weight. “Oh, Red. I’m always up for whatever you’ve got going.”
She scoffed. “Charlie’s right. You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”
He’d show her. He’d show all of them that he could be more than a pretty face. “Eight’s perfect.”
Dixie clenched her jaw and spun toward the door. He waited until it clicked closed behind her before he took his seat again and dialed his sister.
Charlie answered after one ring. “Maybe this is a bad idea. You and Dixie will never be able to pull this off.”
“I can do it, Char.”
Her voice shifted, suddenly sounding much older than her thirty-two years. “Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. Not about this. It’s too important.”
Presley scuffed his boots on the floor in front of him. “I swear I’ll do my best while you’re gone. Is it good timing? No. Sierra and I had plans to go camping out at Big Bend. She’ll be pissed, but I’ll figure out a way to make it up to her.”
“Sierra? I thought you were dating April.”
He shrugged. “April started talking about moving in together. You know as well as she does that’s not my scene.”
“Whatever. Just promise me you won’t give Dixie a hard time. She’s tougher than she looks, but she’s not used to putting up with the likes of you.”
The likes of him…what would his sister say if he told her the real reason he’d broken up with April wasn’t that she wanted to get serious but that she wasn’t the one he wanted to get serious with? Something inside of him had shifted over the past couple of years. When Charlie found her happily ever after with Beck, he’d dismissed it as something his baby sister would do. But last year when Jinx made an honest man out of Cash, Presley had got to thinking. Maybe there was more to life than one-night stands, partying, and raising hell with the boys.
Two of his buddies had taken the leap and gotten hitched last fall. His pack was dwindling, and he didn’t want to be the only one left—trying to whoop it up when he was old and gray—and alone.
No, he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about the unsettled feeling that had taken up residence inside his chest. Not until he figured out what it meant and what, if anything, he was willing to do about it. For the time being, he’d do what he always did—be the fun-loving bad boy his family and the whole town of Holiday had dubbed him.
“Yeah, I’ll walk on eggshells around Miss Dixie King. Scout’s honor.” Even though she couldn’t see him through the phone, he held his hand over his heart.
“Didn’t you quit Boy Scouts when they caught you kissing Missy Townsend behind the shed at the pinewood derby?”
“Semantics, Sis. I still have the heart of a Scout. Why, just last week I helped Maybelle Mitchell cross the street.”
“You’re incorrigible. I’ve got to go. I’m never going to get all of this stuff packed up if I don’t get a move on.”
Presley grinned as he got to his feet. “Just take care of Beck and baby Sully. I promise I’ll try not to piss Dixie off.” And he would too. But it wouldn’t be his fault if Red got herself all worked up on her own.
Chapter Two
Dixie finished out her shift despite the tightness in her chest. She felt like someone held her heart and lungs in their hands, squeezing to the point she could barely breathe. How could she work side by side with Presley Walker? The man couldn’t be serious if he tried. And if Dixie was anything, it was serious. Serious about her job. Serious about taking care of things at home. Serious to the point of sucking every last drop of fun out of her own life. Nowadays the only fun she had was when she got to spend time with her sister’s ten-month-old daughter, although most of the time she was too tired to totally enjoy it.
She closed out her tickets, helped Shep clean up behind the bar, and waved to Angelo as she passed by the kitchen. With only about six hours before she had to be back to meet with Presley, she was in a hurry to get home and get to bed.
All hopes for a decent night’s sleep vanished as she pulled into the driveway of the two-story bungalow she shared with her grandmother. Every light blazed brightly. Why wasn’t Gram sound asleep by now? It was almost two o’clock in the morning. She still wasn’t used to the idea of living with Gram. But her parents had pretty much guilted her into giving up her cute apartment to keep an eye on her aging grandmother.
She opened the front door and bumped into Gram’s best friend and next-door neighbor, Maybelle.
“Well, hi there, Dixie.” Maybelle tugged a hand-knit shawl over her shoulders. “It must be late if you’re home already.”
“It’s almost two, Mrs. Mitchell. What are you and Gram doing up at this hour?” Dixie peered past Maybelle into the kitchen. Where was Gram?
“Just having a girls’ night.” Gram came down the hallway with a huge roll of bills in hand. “Thursday night is girls’ night, remember?”
“Right.” Dixie had only been living with Gram for a month and had already lost track of the older woman’s busy social schedule. If she wasn’t off playing bridge, she was taking on one of her friends in pickleball or volunteering at the senior center. On more than one occasion, Dixie had felt like a dowdy wallflower compared with her extroverted grandmother.
“Here’s your cut.” Gram handed over a wad of cash to Maybelle. “We might have to try out that new place in San Marcos next week.”
“Where did you get all that money?” Dixie shoved her hands on her hips.
Maybelle tucked the cash into her bra. “Your grandmother is quite the pool shark.”
“No.” Dixie’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two older women. “Please tell me you weren’t running the tables over at the pool hall.”
“Oh, we got kicked out of there last month.” Maybelle laughed.
Gram twirled Maybelle around to face the door. “Have a good night now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Maybelle twittered. “See you then, Genie. Goodnight, Dixie.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Mitchell.” Dixie stepped out on the porch to make sure Maybelle didn’t trip and fall while crossing the lawn. The older woman lifted a hand toward her before she disappeared into the house next door. Dixie took in a deep breath and tried to let the stillness of the night soothe her rattled nerves before she reentered the house.
Gram stood in the kitchen, rinsing out a couple of champagne glasses. “Maybelle get home okay?”
“Yes.” Dixie leaned a hip against the counter. “You know Mom and Dad wouldn’t like you running all over town, swindling money out of people at bars.”
“Oh, let us little old ladies have our fun, hon. It’s bad enough they’ve got you moved in with me.”
“Gram, it’s for your own good.”
Gram whirled around. “Says who? I’ve been doing just fine on my own. Buried two husbands, raised three kids as a widow, held down a job, supported myself all my life. And now for some reason your mama thinks I need my granddaughter to keep an eye on me.”
Dixie shrank under her grandmother’s fiery gaze. “It’s not just some reason. They’re worried about you. And worried about the effect your hijinks are having on their business relationships too. Mrs. Martinez won’t return Mom’s calls, and Dad said Martinez Industries hasn’t confirmed its commitment to the church’s capital campaign.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that. But they’ve got poor Laverne practically held hostage in that old folks’ home. I can’t stand it.”
“You can go visit her anytime.”
“Supervised visits. She’s one of my best friends, and they won’t even let me sit with her anymore without a chaperone.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken her out to a strip club for her birthday lunch.” Dixie’s frustration caught up to her. “Maybe then her daughter and son-in-law wouldn’t think
you’re such a bad influence on her.”
Gram lifted her hands in the air. “I told your mama, and I’m telling you. I didn’t know it was a strip club. They advertised free banana hammocks. I’ve always wanted one of those stands to keep my bananas fresh. How was I to know that’s not what they meant?”
“I think you should have figured it out when you pulled up in front. Mom said you made it all the way through two platters of fajitas before they tracked you down.”
“The fajitas were pretty good. Especially for $3.99.”
Dixie groaned. Why had she let her mom convince her to move in? She leaned over and gave Gram a hug. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow and need to get to bed. Promise me no more corrupting the senior citizens of Holiday. Please?”
Gram let out a long breath. “I can’t make promises I don’t intend to keep, Dixie Mae.”
Dixie pulled back and searched Gram’s deep-green gaze. “At least until Dad’s done with the capital campaign? It’s important to him.”
“I know, I know.” Gram shrugged out of the hug. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”
“Thanks. I love you.”
“I love you too. Now get on to bed. I’m headed that way myself.”
Dixie trudged up the steps to her bedroom on the second floor. Keeping Gram in line was turning into more work than she’d anticipated. She needed to talk to her parents about exploring alternate solutions. They were worried about the series of ministrokes Gram had suffered over the winter, but as far as Dixie could tell, her grandmother hadn’t endured any long-term effects. Not unless she counted Gram’s new devil-may-care attitude. But right now Gram wasn’t her focus. Ensuring the Rambling Rose remained in one piece until Charlie returned would require all of her attention over the next week, especially if she had to put up with working side by side with Presley. She’d have to trust Gram to keep her word and stay out of trouble.
* * *
Presley tossed the covers back and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Hell, what time was it? The light slanted across his bedroom floor from a slit in the curtains. Curtains his mother had made him when he moved into his own place on the family ranch about ten years ago. A quick look at the clock on his nightstand confirmed what he feared. He’d overslept. What a great way to start his partnership off with Red. As if she didn’t have enough reasons to give him shit.
He yanked on the jeans he’d left on the floor the night before and shoved his feet into his boots. As he grabbed a T-shirt from the top of a pile at the foot of the bed, he sniffed his armpit. No time for a shower—he’d just slather on some extra deodorant and call it good for now.
Twenty minutes later he tried to sneak through the back door of the Rose.
“You’re late.” His sister-in-law Jinx stood behind the bar, her belly looking like a basketball under her Rambling Rose shirt.
“How pissed is she?” He ambled toward the bar where Jinx filled an oversized mug with coffee.
Jinx laughed. “Pretty damn pissed.” Before she slid the mug across the bar to him, she lifted it to her nose and inhaled. “God, I miss my morning pot of coffee.”
“I’ll drink an extra cup for you.” Presley grabbed it by the handle and tipped the brim of his hat toward his sister-in-law. “Thanks.”
“Good luck.” She turned her attention to wiping down the bar.
Armed with caffeine, Presley trod lightly toward Charlie’s office door. Maybe he could listen in to try to find out how much trouble he was in before he knocked.
The sound of a baby’s cries drifted through the cracked office door. He moved closer, trying to sneak a peek. Dixie sat behind the desk, bouncing a baby on her knee. A very unhappy baby from the way things looked from the hallway. Shep sat across the desk, clearly uncomfortable being roped into a planning meeting.
“She’s not usually so fussy this time of day,” Dixie said. She held something out to the kid, who pushed her hand away. Cheerios scattered across the floor, and one landed right in front of the door.
Shep leaned over and waved a stuffed pink pig in front of the screaming kid. “You want to play with the piggy?”
Presley reached down to pick up the stray Cheerio, and the door squeaked open an inch.
“It’s about time you got in.” Shep’s feet hit the ground, and he stood. “I take it the two of you can figure things out from here.”
“Good morning.” Presley took a seat next to the one Shep had vacated. The screaming baby paused, her face as red as the bandana hanging on the wall behind the desk. “I didn’t know you had a kid, Red.” Presley leaned over the desk to chuck the baby girl under the chin. She reached for his finger and held on tight.
“She’s my niece. I watch her in the mornings.” Dixie looked about to burst into tears. Her eyes were bloodshot like she hadn’t slept a wink. Or like she’d been on the wrong side of a big bottle of some kind of cheap gin.
“Let me take a turn with her, huh?” Presley scooped the baby off Dixie’s lap and held her against his chest. “What’s her name?”
“Bea.” Dixie brushed the cereal crumbs off her shirt and held a burp cloth out to Presley. “Want this?”
“Nah. We’re fine without it. Aren’t we, Bea?” The baby giggled while he slowly spun her around the office.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Shep gestured toward the baby as he edged toward the door. “They all go for him. Doesn’t matter, young, old, anywhere in between. If y’all don’t need me anymore, I’m just going to leave you to it.”
Presley danced little Bea over to where Dixie sat behind the desk. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ve got this.”
Shep gave a final wave and disappeared through the door.
“Looks like it’s just you and me.” He turned to face Dixie. “Oh, and this little princess.”
Dixie had paused flipping through the pages of her notebook. A hint of an actual smile graced her lips. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms under her chest. Nodding toward her niece, who had settled her head against his chest, her smile deepened. “Well, I’ll be. I’ve never seen anyone handle her like that before.”
“What can I say?” He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, careful not to disrupt the baby. “I’ve been told I have a knack for handling females. You let me know if you want to give it a go sometime.”
A rash of red crept up Dixie’s neck and spread over her cheeks. She scooted closer to the desk and skimmed the notebook. “Where do you want to start? The first weekend of the chili cook-off starts tomorrow. Competitors will start checking in as early as twelve o’clock this afternoon. I have forty-two teams signed up, but we’ll take walk-ins as well. You’re prepared to handle the bands, right?”
When he didn’t respond right away, she glanced up. “Presley?”
“Yup?” He couldn’t get over the sheer number of pages she’d filled with her loopy handwriting.
“The bands. You’ll handle all of the musicians, right? I’ve got a spreadsheet right here that lists who’s playing when and what kind of equipment they’ll need. We’ve got the stage set up out back already. Their trailers and buses need to be parked in the roped-off area. Cash is running security to make sure the fans stay away.” She paused and held a color-coded spreadsheet out to him.
He took it and scanned the text. Baby Bea startled and made a grab for the paper, crinkling up a corner of it in her tiny fist. “Careful there, girl. We don’t want you to get a paper cut.”
“You want me to take her?” Dixie stood, reaching for the baby.
“Nah, I got her. Did you make up this list?”
“Yes. Charlie gave me all the details, and I color-coded everything so you could keep them all straight.”
Presley clucked his tongue. “Wow, your confidence in my ability is positively humbling.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
The las
t thing he needed was someone breathing down his neck, telling him what he needed to do. He’d helped Charlie with booking and managing the bands before. He could schmooze narcissistic musicians in his sleep. “Why don’t you stick to the chili and I’ll stick to the tunes, Red?”
Her hands flew to her hips. “Would you please stop calling me that? My name is Dixie. Dix-ie. It’s only two syllables. I know that’s one more than Red. Think you can remember that?”
“I can remember all kinds of things, Dixie Mae.”
Her face flushed the color of Angelo’s special fire-roasted salsa roja. She had to know he was making reference to their little run-in that had happened several years back. Although a few years younger than his sister, Dixie had been in the same 4-H club as Charlie. The girls had had an end-of-year slumber party at his folks’ house and had been playing some sort of truth or dare game. He’d walked in, just wanting to stir things up with Charlie and her friends, and heard Dixie Mae King admit her most secret crush was none other than himself.
Her hands clenched into fists before she could pull herself together.
“It’s okay, I was getting sick of calling you Red anyway.” He passed the baby back to her then folded the spreadsheet and shoved it into his back pocket. “I’m gonna go check on the setup out back then run home and take a quick shower. Unless you want to talk some more?”
She sputtered, baby Bea started to wail again, and Presley made his way to the door.
“I’ll see you later, Fireball.” He ducked through the doorway before she could catch up. Fireball—where did that come from? Had a nice ring to it. It was one of his favorite libations, but it didn’t quite suit her. She was too serious, too passive all the time.
Her footsteps clomped across the floor, and he heard the door handle bang against the wall. “It’s Dixie, darn it, you self-serving donkey butt.”
Presley let out a belly laugh as he turned the corner. Maybe Fireball wasn’t too off base after all.
