Cowboy Charming

by Dylann Crush

  “Door-to-door service, Miss Dixie King.” The Jeep came to a stop in Gram’s drive. “Think about what I said, will you?”

  “About getting Chandler drunk and trying to force information out of him?”

  “Well, if that’s how you want to put it.”

  “Look, I’m no femme fatale.”

  “I told you I’d help you with that part.”

  He seemed sincere. But her judgment wasn’t at its best. Not after a long day at the Rose and spending the evening doing her best to pry information out of a stranger. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

  “It’s a deal.” Presley stuck out his hand to shake on it.

  Dixie reached for it, relishing the burn that simmered in her gut as her hand slid into his. What was it about Presley that set her hormones into overdrive? Before she let herself get carried away, she broke contact and climbed out of the Jeep. “Thanks for the ride tonight.”

  “My pleasure. See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”

  She stepped back from the drive and watched as he backed out. He flashed his brights at her then sped off down the street. Maybe toward home. Maybe toward some hookup. Maybe toward somewhere she didn’t even have the imagination to imagine. She and Presley lived in different worlds. It would be best if she kept reminding herself of that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning Dixie woke to the sound of Gram strangling a chicken. At least that’s what she thought was happening based on the high-pitched shrieking coming from downstairs. She grabbed her robe off the foot of the bed and raced down the steps. Gram stood in the mudroom in full waders, holding something in both hands.

  “Are you okay?” Dixie barely had time to wrap her robe around her and cinch it closed.

  “Dixie, thank goodness. Grab that bowl from the cabinet, will you?”

  “What’s going on? What was that noise?”

  “I just got a fright. Don’t worry, everything’s fine.”

  Dixie held out the bowl. “But what are you doing?”

  Gram opened her hands so Dixie could see what she’d captured. “It’s a young one. Maybe only a few weeks old.”

  The thing in her hands looked like some prehistoric baby dinosaur. “But what is it?”

  “Why, Dixie, it’s one of those horny toads Kermit’s trying to save. He told me all about it last time I took him some dinner. They’re fascinating. Now hold the bowl, and I’ll slide it in. Kermit’s going to be so excited when he sees.”

  Dixie held out the bowl with one hand, wishing she could just set it down and walk away instead. Since when had Gram been concerned about the fate of the horned toad? Dixie didn’t wish the entire species ill, she just didn’t want to deal with it on such a personal level. “Now what are you going to do?”

  “Get dressed. We’ve got to run it over to Kermit’s.” Gram put the lid on the bowl then raced through the kitchen toward her bedroom.

  “Your boots!” Dixie called after her. Why she even needed waders was a mystery. The only water they had within walking distance of the house was a mucky pond a few blocks down. The state health department had banned anyone from venturing in on the suspicion it contained some sort of weird bacteria. Oh, Gram. If she’d been splashing around in that water, no telling what she might have picked up.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get to Kermit so he can catalog it.”

  “I’ve got to get to the Rose. Today’s the final day of competition for the weekend. Besides, I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Can you slow down a sec?” Dixie stood still while Gram raced around her.

  “Running out to Kermit’s will just take a bit. You’ll have plenty of time to get to the Rose.” Gram continued to spin circles around her. Just watching her made Dixie feel nauseated. “I made a whole pot of coffee this morning. There’s probably a cup or two left. I’ll pour you one in a to-go cup while you run up and put some clothes on.”

  Not willing to spend the energy it would take to try to dissuade Gram from her wild plan, Dixie spun to face the stairs. Going along would be easier. It would take less energy in the long run. She never won when she tried to hold her ground with Gram anyway.

  By the time she returned to the kitchen, Gram had called Maybelle over. The two of them sat at the kitchen table oohing and aahing over the weird creature in the bowl, their legs covered in toe-to-hip waders.

  “What are you going to name it, Genie?” Maybelle asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Fernando. I’ve always wanted to have a Fernando in my life.”

  Maybelle giggled. “I’ve always been a sucker for a Fred, like Fred Astaire. How about you, Dixie?”

  Dixie held her coffee cup to her lips, mulling over the most appealing name when she spotted a Jeep pull into the drive. “Presley.”

  “Presley? I never figured the two of you as a fit, but stars, that man does know how to fill out a pair of jeans. Good choice, hon.” Gram lifted her mug in a gesture of approval.

  Maybelle snorted. “Oh, you can’t mean Presley Walker. Why, everyone knows that boy’s just a—” Maybelle stopped talking when the man in question appeared at the back screen door.

  “Morning, Mrs. Holbein, Mrs. Mitchell. Hi there, Dixie.”

  Dixie stood, dumbfounded, the travel mug of coffee halfway to her lips.

  “Y’all mind if I come in?”

  Gram recovered her manners first. “Of course. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “That would be much appreciated, ma’am.” As he stepped through the doorway, he removed his hat.

  Gram snagged the travel mug out of Dixie’s hand. “Here you go. I hope you don’t mind a little cream and sugar.”

  “No, ma’am, that’s just how I like it. Something sweet to balance out the strength.” He brought the cup to his lips, winking at Dixie as he took a sip.

  “Gram, that was my coffee.” She clamped her hands to her hips. It was too early in the morning to deal with Presley Walker.

  “Oh, honey, we’ll get you some more.” She twirled Dixie around by the shoulders and gave her a gentle nudge toward the stairs. “Now, why don’t you go get dressed?”

  “What’s wrong with this? We’re just going to Kermit’s, aren’t we?” She glanced down at her favorite jeans. The kind of jeans she could live in. Frayed around the edges, they were about worn in just right.

  Gram leaned close. “You’ve got a gentleman caller. That’s two days in a row. Please, go do something with your hair before you scare him away.”

  Dixie sighed. Since when was Gram so concerned about her love life…or lack thereof? Committed to keeping the peace, she retreated upstairs. She had no intention of changing, but it wouldn’t hurt to try to contain her hair in an elastic.

  When she came back to the kitchen, Gram and Mrs. Mitchell were sitting at the table, sipping on their coffee while they gazed appreciatively at Presley’s backside. As he reached up to put a bowl on the shelf of the tallest cabinet, his shirt lifted, exposing a sliver of skin. “Is that where you wanted it?”

  “Oh, on second thought, maybe you should move it back over there.” Gram pointed to the cabinet on the other wall.

  Presley grinned and moved over to the other side. “This better?”

  Mrs. Mitchell must have noticed Dixie come into the room. She cleared her throat and swatted at Gram.

  At least Mrs. Mitchell had the decency to flush, but Gram just shrugged her shoulders. “He said he’d help out with some honey-do chores while he waited for you.” She sighed. “And goodness knows, we have plenty of tasks around here that could keep him busy for a nice long while.”

  “Presley, can we talk?” Dixie grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the door as she cast a glance back at Gram. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  He snagged his coffee on the way out. “Simmer down. You’re going to make me spill my coffee.”

&
nbsp; She shoved him through the door to the screened-in porch. “That’s my coffee by the way.”

  “We can always share.”

  Dixie chose to ignore the spark that flickered at the notion of sharing anything with Presley beyond a harsh word. “What are you doing here? It’s barely after seven.”

  “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I came up with a plan.” He sat down on one of Gram’s white wicker chairs with a frilly floral cushion. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  * * *

  Dixie stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “That will never work.”

  “Why not?” He’d been up half the night brainstorming their options. At three in the morning, this had seemed like the best plan. But now, in the light of day, sitting on Eugenia Holbein’s ruffled chair with her prissy granddaughter, maybe he’d overestimated Dixie’s abilities.

  “Because I can’t play the vixen. There’s not one ounce of sexy in my entire body.”

  Presley reached out and grabbed her hand with his. “Listen here, Fireball. You’ve got great potential. You’re already cute. We’ll just up the effort a bit and get you into vamp territory.”

  She yanked her hand away. “Oh my gosh, that’s the most pigheaded thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “What?” He backed away as she stood and started pacing the porch. “I just paid you a compliment.” A compliment that hit a tad too close to home. In the past few days, he’d started to see Dixie as much more than the high-strung waitress who worked for his sister at the Rose. How was saying she was cute not a compliment?

  “That wasn’t a compliment. Anything followed by a but doesn’t count as a flattering remark.” She stopped at the front of the porch, her back to him.

  “Hell, Dixie. I didn’t mean to insult you. You are cute. Cute as a baby possum.”

  Her whole head rolled. “Stop. Please, just stop.”

  “Cute as a bug’s ear.” He took slow steps toward her in case she went on the offense. “Darlin’ as a duck’s ruffle-feathered bum.”

  “I’m sure your posse loves it when you compare them to insects and woodland animals, but that’s not exactly my style. Now, can we talk seriously about what we need to do?”

  “Yep. That’s why I’m here. We need to call Charlie.” Before she could object, he pulled out his phone, and Charlie’s number appeared on the screen.

  “Wait. We don’t want to bother her. I’m sure she’s busy with Beck and the baby. Surely we can figure something out.”

  He pressed the button for the speakerphone. “Who died?” Charlie’s voice filtered through.

  “Nobody.”

  “Presley, why else would you be calling me on a Sunday morning unless there’s bad news to share?”

  He set the phone down on the table and resumed his place on the chair. “Well, there is bad news of a sort. There’s a guy sniffing around town about the Rose and entertainment and dining options. Plus Doc said some guys up from San Antonio were here to do some estimates on a big project. Sounds like some investor may have bought the Garcia acreage.”

  “What?” Sounded like she would have jumped through the phone if she’d had the chance. “That’s right next to the Rose. It’s a free country, and I don’t expect to always be the hot spot in town, but why right next to us?”

  “Yeah, Dixie and I are trying to figure out a plan to get some intel. There’s a guy here from southern California who’s been making some noise.”

  “Oh my gosh, do I need to come back there? How are you going to figure out what’s going on?”

  “Well, if you don’t mind me making a suggestion, we could come right out and ask him.” Dixie leveled a smoldering gaze at Presley. It hit him square in the gut. The woman could turn it off and on at will. She just needed to learn how to control it.

  “If we ask him, we run the risk of scaring him off. I’m suggesting a more subtle approach.” Presley stared back, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Such as?” Charlie’s voice went all muffled for a minute. “Oh, hold on a sec. Sully’s crying in the backseat because he dropped his pacifier.”

  “Asking outright is better than your plan.” Dixie held her ground.

  “No, it’s not. We don’t want him to run back to California before we have a chance to figure out his ultimate goal.”

  “This isn’t some sort of game.” A flush crept up her neck, spreading across her chin and up her cheeks.

  “I never said it was. But being direct isn’t going to work.”

  “Are y’all still there?” Charlie interrupted the layered gaze.

  “Yes.” They both answered at the same time, not breaking eye contact.

  “Sorry, this trip is going to be the death of me. We got a flat last night, and it took Beck and Dad forever to get the spare on. Then Sully had a blowout diaper as soon as we got on the road again. Even Baby Back isn’t happy. She puked up whatever she got into on the side of the road when I let her out for a bit yesterday.”

  Dixie’s demeanor shifted. “Oh, I’m so sorry you’re having a tough time of it. We got a flat last night too.”

  “You and Presley?” Charlie asked.

  “No, Dixie had a hot date last night.” Presley narrowed his eyes. “You should ask her who she went out with, Sis.”

  “Dixie? What’s going on down there? Who was in charge at the Rose?”

  Dixie glared at him. “I left your incapable brother in charge. I promise not to do it again. Don’t worry, everything was fine. The flat was with the guy from California who Presley thinks is out to ruin the Rose.”

  “Wait. Why are you dating the guy we think is going to try to take us down?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m not dating anyone. He asked if I’d take him on a tour around town.”

  “SoCal has a sweet spot for our Dixie,” Presley added. “I’m trying to convince her to exploit his interest and see if she can get some information on what his plans might be.”

  “Oh, I like it.” Charlie cleared her throat. “So what’s the plan?”

  Presley shot a triumphant smile at Dixie. “I say she accepts his invite to go out again and tries to get him a little tipsy so he might share some details.”

  “How do you feel about that, Dixie?”

  “Honestly? Not great. Running shady recon for your brother isn’t exactly my style. Especially not when he wants to vamp me up.”

  “But would you be willing to go out with him again? Just to see if he’ll open up a little bit more?”

  The silence grew into a pregnant pause. Then a pregnant pause that seemed to be about two weeks overdue.

  “Dixie?” Charlie asked.

  Presley shrugged his shoulders, waiting for her to respond. “For Charlie,” he whispered.

  She let out a deep sigh. “Oh, all right. But just one more date.”

  He clapped his hands together. “That’s what I’m talking about. We’ll get things squared away here, Sis. You and Beck just enjoy the award ceremony and take plenty of pictures.”

  “If we ever get there. Thanks, Dixie. I appreciate you.”

  Dixie shook her head while she rolled her eyes. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

  “Hell, Fireball. I know all about regrets, and believe me, this one won’t even register.” He ended the call then rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s get started.”

  “I can’t. Gram and Mrs. Mitchell need me to run them over to Kermit’s right now. Can we talk at the Rose later?”

  He checked his watch. “Competition starts up again at ten. One of us ought to be there.”

  “Oh, I’ll be back long before that. We just have to deliver a baby horned toad.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.” He stepped toward the door. The porch creaked, and the plank felt like it might give way underneath his foot. “Y’all got some wood rot?”

>   “I don’t know.”

  “Let me check.” He knelt down to pull back the outdoor carpet covering the floorboards. The dark, stained boards underneath were a dead giveaway. “Yeah, these boards need to be replaced before your grandma falls right through. You got any spare wood around here?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call my dad to have someone come over and take care of it.”

  “I can help you out. I’ve got wood.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled. She probably didn’t even catch the accidental innuendo. “I’ve got a whole bunch of boards over at my place. I’d be happy to fix up the floor so no one gets hurt.”

  “Thanks. That’s a very generous offer, but I don’t want your wood.” She toed the carpet he’d flipped up so it fell back in place.

  “You might not want it, but I’m telling you, you need it.” She still hadn’t caught on. What would it be like to live a day in the life of Dixie Mae King? So much missed opportunity for humor.

  “Look, Presley. I don’t want your wood, and I definitely don’t need it.”

  “Your call. But if you change your mind, my wood is always available to you.” He reached for the door handle. As he pushed it open, Dixie’s grandmother jumped back. “Have y’all been listening in on us?”

  “No.” Mrs. Holbein shook her head with a little too much enthusiasm. “I just wanted to check the weather to see if I needed to bring my umbrella.”

  Presley glanced outside where the sun shone bright, guaranteeing another gorgeous Texas summer day. “I don’t think you’ll need it today, Mrs. Holbein.”

  “Please call me Genie. Mrs. Holbein is so formal.”

  He chuckled. “Genie it is. How would you ladies like to catch a ride over to Kermit’s in style? I can run us all over in the Jeep if you want.”

  Mrs. Mitchell clapped her hands together and looked to Genie for approval.

  “Shotgun!” Genie cried. Then she marched out of the house, a plastic bowl clutched against her chest.

  “What’s in the bowl?” Presley held the door while Mrs. Mitchell followed.