Cowboy Charming

by Dylann Crush

“Are you sure?” She leaned on him a little.

  “Well, I didn’t count them all. But there are a lot of bins.”

  “Good. Let’s go tell Kermit. Gram’s going to be so happy.” Dixie swayed in his arms. Things were working out. Kermit’s toads were safe, and Gram would get her own happily ever after. Presley was all in one piece and wanted to give a real relationship a shot. Everything was coming up roses.

  Then why did she have the sinking feeling the worst was yet to come?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dixie began the next morning with renewed purpose. Kermit had managed to avoid being struck by lightning during last night’s storm and had finally come down from the roof. With the second weekend of the chili cook-off almost upon them, she was grateful to not have to figure out how to explain to visitors why they had a man living on the roof of the Rose.

  “You ready to go?” She paused in the doorway of her grandmother’s bedroom. Gram had gone all out for their visit to the bank. She wore a bright-purple suit jacket over a formfitting black skirt. A silky white blouse with miles of ruffles at the neck completed the ensemble. Dark-brown nylons peeked out under the hem of her skirt and disappeared into a pair of white patent heels with a peekaboo toe.

  “Just about. Can you help me fasten this bracelet?” Gram held out her wrist. Dixie took the silver chain.

  “Where did you get this?” She fingered the tiny frog charm.

  Gram blushed. “A gift from Kermit.”

  “How did he get you a bracelet? He’s been sitting on the roof of the Rose for days.” Dixie clasped the chain around Gram’s wrist.

  “I think Presley helped him out a bit.” Gram shook her wrist, letting the charm dangle.

  Presley Walker was just full of surprises. He’d been the one to arrange the meeting with the banker today. Gram had her heart set on buying Kermit’s land. She and Dixie had stayed up half the night talking about it. Kermit would get to keep his horned toad conservation. Dixie would be able to realize her dream of having her own studio and retail space, and Gram would become a landlord.

  Presley had assured them the deal was as good as done. It had taken every ounce of willpower Dixie possessed not to spill the beans to her mom and dad. But Gram was right—it was her money, and she could spend it how she saw fit. Dixie knew the fallout from this particular decision would probably haunt her for quite a while, especially when her dad had been counting on Gram’s contribution to his capital campaign.

  “Speak of the devil…” Dixie peered out the front window in time to see Presley’s Jeep pull into the drive.

  “I’m so glad the two of you got out of your own way.” Gram winked at Dixie’s reflection in the mirror as she clipped on an earring.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dixie asked.

  “Nothing.” Gram gave her a look full of mock innocence then bustled down the stairs.

  Dixie followed, eager to get her hands, and her lips, on Presley Walker.

  “Don’t you look pretty as a peach today.” He kissed her on the cheek when she reached the bottom step. She wrapped her arms around him, still getting used to the idea that they were a thing.

  “Ready?” Gram slipped her purse onto her arm. “If my hand doesn’t cramp from signing my name a thousand times, you’ll be looking at a real estate investor by this evening.”

  “Now, Mrs. Holbein, I told you it doesn’t happen quite that way. Kermit defaulted on his payments. My buddy said it’s a done deal, but it will probably take some time for the paperwork to go back and forth within the bank.” Presley shot Dixie a smile.

  “I know, I know. I’m just so excited.” Gram raised onto her tiptoes and pressed a candy apple–red kiss to Presley’s cheek. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me through this.”

  Dixie used her thumb to rub the lipstick off. “We’d better get going. Being late won’t make a very favorable impression on the banker.”

  He held the door for both of them then helped Gram into the Jeep. She kept up the chitter-chatter for the short ride into town. Her smile could have lit up a small country, she was so jazzed about being able to save Kermit’s conservation charge. The smile lasted all the way through the pleasantries with the bank officer Presley introduced as one of his old buddies, Blake, past the review of her account, and up to the point where Blake received a message from his secretary informing him the bank had just accepted an offer from another party. One that offered more than the going rate on Hill Country acreage. One that happened to be from a recently formed LLC out of southern California.

  “Dammit.” Presley slapped a hand onto the desk in front of him. “You knew we were coming in this morning to talk about this. How could you sell it right out from under us?”

  “I wish I could say it wasn’t all about the money, but”—Blake shrugged—“it’s all about the money.”

  “Can we make a higher offer?” Presley asked.

  “It’s done. Paperwork was signed early this morning. I just found out about it.”

  “I don’t understand.” Gram glanced from Presley to Blake. “You sold my land to someone else?”

  “Technically, it was never your land…” Blake began to explain.

  “It should have been. I told her it was for sure.” Presley leaned over the desk. “You know you just sealed our fate, don’t you?”

  Blake shuffled some papers into a stack on his desk. “It’s just a crappy piece of marshland.”

  “What are we going to do?” Dixie stood, glaring at Presley. “You promised me you had this all under control. You’ve got to fix it. We can’t lose the Rose over this.”

  “What about Kermit’s toads? What’s he supposed to do with them now?” Gram stamped her foot. “My last chance at having sex before I die is going to have his heart broken into a million pieces. This will kill him, Dixie.”

  “Gram!” Dixie took her grandmother by the elbow. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

  Presley clenched his jaw. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you. If you’d kept your cool, let me handle things with Chandler, none of this would have happened.” Dixie clutched her grandmother’s arm, more for her own benefit than Gram’s.

  “So this is all my fault.” Presley blew out a breath.

  “You’re the one who had a plan.” Dixie should have known better than to let her heart lead the way when it came to Presley Walker.

  “And I’m sure if we’d done things your way everything would be fine by now.” Presley wasn’t backing down. He’d probably never had to admit fault before. That’s what happened when he didn’t stick around long enough to suffer the consequences of his actions.

  “I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” Dixie guided Gram across the street to the diner. There was no way she was getting back in the car with Presley now. She’d rather call her sister or even her mother for a ride than spend one more moment with the man. How could she have trusted him?

  “Fine. If that’s the way you want to leave things, so be it.” He spun on his heel and stalked across the road. “But just remember, you’re the one who’s giving up, not me.”

  She shook her head. Giving up? The last thing she was going to do was give up. She was going to do what she always did…put her own wants and needs aside again for the goodness of the community. That’s what she should have done in the first place. But she’d let Presley sweet-talk her and get her wishing and hoping for things that never would have been possible. That’s what happened when she wished on silly stars. From now on, she’d put her faith in the one person she’d always been able to count on…herself.

  * * *

  It was the look that did him in. The look in her eyes that said she’d known he’d fail her somehow, some way. Damn, he hated that look. Not because it crushed him. Not because it slayed him. But because she was right.
He should have been more careful. He’d let his need to come through like a fucking knight in shining armor drown out the voice in his head that whispered he needed to double- and triple-check the facts before he made promises he wasn’t sure he could deliver on.

  He hadn’t given SoCal enough credit. The laid-back, surfer-style attitude belied the fact that the jerk was a shark underneath. If he wanted to play hardball, Presley was game. But he was done messing around with the front man. If he was going to come through for Dixie, for her gram and Kermit, for Charlie and Beck and the whole town of Holiday, he was going to have to go straight to the source.

  As he hopped into the driver’s seat of his Jeep, he pulled up his contacts on his phone. Filed under “Do Not Dial, Ever,” he found the number he was looking for.

  It rang once, then a gravelly voice barked on the other end. “Yeah?”

  “You ready to do this?” Presley asked.

  “I was born to do this, son.”

  “I’m not your son.”

  The man let out a sharp laugh. “You’re right about that. My kin knows when to call it quits.”

  “I’m not even close to calling it quits. Hell, I’m just getting started.”

  “Friday night. At the Rose. You and me.”

  “You’re on. You bring the paperwork for Kermit’s land.”

  “And you bring your granpappy’s fiddle. Sure will be nice to have another piece of the old geyser finally bend to my will.”

  “It’ll stay where it belongs, right here with me,” Presley promised.

  “You sure are a cocky son of a bitch.”

  With that, the phone line went dead. Presley tossed his phone on the passenger seat. The only way to fight fire was with fire. He just hoped he didn’t get burned in the process.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dixie ran through her last-resort options until she couldn’t keep her thoughts straight. She’d spent the past three days racking her brain for some option she’d overlooked. She could come clean with her dad and plead with him to step in and help. She could call Chandler, beg for forgiveness, and see if she could buy some time. She could climb into bed, pull the covers over her head, and pray she’d wake up to find the whole giant mess had just been a bad dream.

  Out of those options, hiding in bed was definitely the most appealing. Also, the most unlikely to result in a positive outcome. If the Bristol family got their hands on that land, they’d move forward with their plans. The Rose would be doomed, Holiday would turn into some cheesy country and western tourist trap, and Kermit’s toads would be left to fend for themselves.

  It was high time she started preparing for the worst. Charlie and Beck were due back today, guaranteeing the worst was definitely upon her. If only she and Presley had been able to work together. Surely the two of them could have come up with some solution.

  But he’d disappeared. Nobody had seen or heard from him in days. Dixie couldn’t help but want to kick herself for taking a chance on the man.

  Even Gram had lost her happy-go-lucky attitude. She’d been spending every waking moment out at Kermit’s place, helping him get his toads ready for their third move in less than a week. They’d release as many as they could back into the wild, far away from Kermit’s land since it would soon become a major construction zone.

  Dixie shook her head, wishing reality would fade away. She’d been so concerned about everyone else losing their dreams that she hadn’t yet mourned the loss of her own. With that giant theme park coming to town, Holiday wouldn’t be the same. Definitely not the right place for her to start up a handcrafted artisan compound. She’d even gotten her hopes up that Presley might eventually want to join her venture. He could move all of his equipment to a studio right next to hers, and they’d be able to work side by side to make their dreams come true.

  She let out a sharp laugh. That dream had lasted about ten minutes. Her relationship status hadn’t fared much better.

  Gram shuffled down the hall in her house shoes. “Dixie? Are you heading to the Rose today? Don’t you have that chili thing still going on?”

  Dixie pulled a pillow over her head and groaned into it. “Yes.”

  “What?” Gram paused in the doorway. “I can’t hear you with a pillow over your face.”

  She peeked out from underneath and blew a duck feather from her lip. “I suppose I should, although I don’t see the point. The Rose will be wiped off the map before next summer thanks to me.”

  “Now, sweetheart.” Gram perched on the edge of the bed. “Maybe Charlie and Beck will know what to do. I still have faith that Presley is going to come through. You haven’t given up on him, have you?”

  Propping herself up on her elbows, Dixie let out an epic sigh. “He’s gone, Gram. Probably ran off to Nashville to find his brother and start up his business there.”

  “Not Presley.” Gram clutched her hand to her heart. “I can’t believe he’d leave his family, his friends, and his girlfriend in a lurch like that.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend anymore.” Dixie burrowed back under the pillow. “That dubious honor lasted about as long as Presley having a heart did.”

  “You want to know what I think?” Gram asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s too bad because I’m going to tell you anyway.” Gram stretched out beside her on the full-sized bed. “I think Presley’s going to swoop in at the last moment and save the day.”

  Dixie peeked out again. “How? By telling a joke? That seems to be the only thing he’s serious about…not being serious.”

  “Oh, honey.” Gram smoothed back her hair, making Dixie feel about ten years old again. “I know you’re hurting, but you can’t let a momentary setback keep you down.”

  “It’s not a momentary setback. Everything is ruined, and it’s all my fault.” Dixie tossed the covers back and crawled out of bed on the opposite side from Gram.

  “We’ll adapt.” Gram swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “That’s what God’s creatures do.”

  “Not the horned toads.” Dixie pulled her shorts on under her nightshirt. “They’re not adapting, they’re going extinct. Just like the Rose.”

  “It’ll work out how it’s supposed to, you’ll see.”

  “Gram, I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but please stop. I need to be miserable for a while.” She turned away, gathering her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “Are you going to Kermit’s today?”

  “Yes. The poor man doesn’t have much, so it won’t take long to help him pack.”

  “When does he need to be out of there?” Dixie ducked into the closet to change her shirt. Pretty soon her stack of hot-pink Rose shirts would become collector’s items.

  “Oh, no one’s said yet, but he’d rather get it over with and be on his way.”

  She stuck her head out of the closet. “Where’s he going to go?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  “What?” Dixie heard the hesitation in her gram’s voice. She peered around the doorway of the closet. Gram stood at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands together. A crease the size of the Rio Grande bisected her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been wondering. What would you think about Kermit moving in here with us?” Gram grimaced, like she was bracing herself for an outburst.

  “I think if it makes you happy, then it’s fine with me.” As Dixie closed the distance between them, the crease disappeared. Her grandmother’s face took on the glow of someone very much in love. Dixie envied her her happiness. Not because she wanted it for herself instead, but because she couldn’t share in it. The wound Presley had left on her heart was too new, too raw.

  “Your daddy’s going to shit a brick when he hears about this.” Gram clucked her tongue.

  “Gram!” Dixie laughed. “A brick’s too small.
He’s going to crap a cinderblock.”

  “You’re probably right about that.”

  “So are you going to make an honest man out of Kermit?”

  “We’ll see. At my age, you learn to take your blessings as they come and enjoy one day at a time.” Gram put her hand on Dixie’s arm and gave it a squeeze.

  “That sounds like good advice. I think I’d better get out there and start counting my own blessings.” After a final hug from Gram, Dixie made her way down the steps and out into the sun.

  * * *

  Presley ran a palm over the neck of his granddad’s fiddle. He’d spent the better part of the last three days fully restoring the vintage instrument until the shine would be too much for even Leroy Bristol to resist. Now only one task stood between him and his final play to save the Rose. He gingerly set the fiddle in the case and snapped it shut. Grabbing the handle in one hand, he snagged his most recent creation in the other and made his way to the Jeep.

  He ran a palm over his scruffy chin as he shifted into drive and pulled onto the road. He’d royally botched things with Dixie. He still hadn’t let himself dwell on the circumstances surrounding their breakup long enough to try to figure out what happened. Every time he started to think about it, an image of Dixie popped into his head. Dixie flaring those emerald eyes at him. Dixie with her hands on her hips, ready to rip him a new one. Dixie pulling that swollen lower lip into her mouth like he’d been dreaming about doing for what seemed like forever.

  As he pulled into the parking lot of the obscure dark building, a memory of making this same drive with his granddad hit him. He’d been here before. He had to duck as he entered the doorway with peeling pink letters. The Fiddlin’ Kitten. Yes, he’d definitely been here before, he could feel it in his bones.

  The guy behind the counter eyed him as he approached the register. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to get an opinion on a couple of fiddles if you have a minute.” Presley laid the case on the counter.

  “You’re the guy who called earlier?”