Cowboy Charming

by Dylann Crush

  “I told you to come back by Tuesday. It’s Friday now.” Waylon closed the back of the trailer and brushed his hands against his jeans.

  “Waylon, please. Give me one more day. That boar is a beast. You saw what he did to my side. He can’t stay here—he’s a hazard.” Presley followed Waylon, undoing the latches on the trailer right after he’d secured them.

  “What now?” Charlie tossed her hands in the air. “Who’s Ham Bone, and why is there a boar in the pen with Pork Chop? Y’all remember the last time this happened?”

  Dixie held back a smile. Who could forget the sight of Charlie and Beck trying to break apart two pigs that’d been obviously intent on making bacon?

  “He can’t stay at the ranch anymore. Damn boar busts through everything. I can’t fix the fences as fast as he breaks them.”

  “If he’s breaking out, why not let him run away?” Presley mumbled. “Seems like that would be a win-win for everyone.”

  “Because he doesn’t run away. He runs to her.” Waylon pointed at Pork Chop. “Then he busts into her pen. You want to keep them separate, you start mending fences. I’m done.” He did up the latches one more time and pointed a threatening finger at Presley. “You touch those again, and I’ll break your fingers.”

  Presley backed off, holding his hands in the air. “In light of everything else we have going on tonight, I’m going to suggest we leave the pigs to their own devices.”

  “Fine. But if we end up with a litter of piglets, it’s all on you.” Charlie waved to her oldest brother. “See you later, Waylon. Come back when you’re in a better mood.”

  He shook his head as he climbed into the pickup and drove away.

  Dixie turned to Presley. “So what’s your plan, Mr. Walker? How are you going to save the Rose?”

  “Yes, Mr. Walker, do tell.” Charlie slung an arm around Dixie’s shoulder and pulled her in. “Didn’t I warn you about my brother? How did you get sucked in?”

  “I can tell you that,” Presley said. “Someone a lot wiser than me once said you can’t choose the people you fall in love with, but you can choose how to love them.”

  “Really? Who said that?” Charlie wrapped her other arm around Presley and began walking both of them back toward the stage. “Was it Mother Teresa? Shakespeare? Am I on the right track?”

  Presley leaned back and met Dixie’s gaze. Her heart expanded like a helium balloon, filling her chest, as he mouthed three little words to her…I love you.

  She reached over and slapped him on the butt. Gram would be so proud. “Then prove it to me. Get out there and win back Kermit’s land.”

  Presley nodded, pressed a kiss to his sister’s cheek, then laid a mind-numbing version on Dixie, leaving her reeling and struggling to stand up straight. By the time she regained her balance, he was halfway to the stage.

  “Now what do we do?” Charlie asked.

  “We keep our fingers crossed that Presley gets the right cards.”

  “Fantastic. Did I ever tell you that Beck’s ancestors originally won the Rambling Rose in a poker game?”

  “Really?” Dixie didn’t like where this was going. Not at all.

  “Yep. Of course, it was just a one-horse bar in a two-horse town at the time. So you understand I’m not terribly excited at the prospect of Presley hinging all of our fates on a few hands of poker.”

  “I can appreciate that.” Dixie bit her lip, trying to offer some wisdom or some kind words that would alleviate the seriousness of the situation. “I guess there’s one more thing we could do.”

  They’d almost reached the grassy area where people had set up chairs and blankets to watch the bands.

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  Dixie glanced up at the stage to see Chandler take a seat at the table with his uncle. “Pray.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Presley glanced out at the crowd then back at the cards in his hand. A queen and a one-eyed jack stared back at him. He and Leroy had been going at it on the stage for more than an hour. The pot seemed to go back and forth between them. Leroy would go up a couple stacks of chips, and then Presley would win it back. Per the house rules they’d discussed before the game began, the antes had been increasing every ten minutes. In another thirty seconds or so, it would be time to raise them again.

  Leroy checked his cards. Presley wasn’t a professional poker player by any stretch of the imagination, but in the last couple of hands, he’d discovered Leroy’s tell. When he got a couple of cards he was excited about, his left eyebrow would wiggle a little. Like a fuzzy caterpillar trying to line dance across his forehead.

  “What are you looking at?” Leroy growled.

  “Nothing. Just trying to read your mind to see what cards you’re holding.”

  “Good luck with that, Walker.” The eyebrow wiggled as Leroy tossed in two hundred dollars’ worth of chips.

  “Too rich for my blood.” Presley folded. It killed him to toss in the cards with a queen and a jack in his hand, but those one-eyed bastards seemed to have it in for him.

  “Raising the ante,” the dealer announced over the mic.

  Presley slid his chips into the middle. While he waited for his cards, he sought out Dixie in the crowd. She looked nervous. Her hands couldn’t seem to stay still. He gave her a wink, not sure if she’d be able to see it from that far away. Still, her presence offered a calming influence over him. Knowing she was out there cheering for him gave him the confidence he needed to try to pull this off.

  The dealer passed out the cards. Presley took a quick peek. A pair of threes. Not his best start of the night but certainly not his worst. He tossed a handful of chips onto the stack. “Raising you four red and a blue.”

  “That’s three hundred in chips, asshole.” Chandler had been quiet most of the game, but even he must be getting bored.

  Presley waited for the eyebrow wiggle. It didn’t come.

  “What the hell. Let’s see the flop.” Leroy shoved his chips onto the pile.

  The dealer turned over the first card in the middle. Another three. No way. That gave Presley three of a kind. He had to continue, but he had to play it cool.

  “I’ll raise you another four red ones.” He plucked the chips off his stack and tossed them in the center.

  Leroy followed. “Sure, let’s see another card.”

  The dealer turned over a jack. The eyebrow wiggled. Best guess was that Leroy was sitting with a pair of jacks in his hand. Still, three threes beat a pair of jacks all day long. Presley tossed in two blue chips.

  “You cocky SOB.” Leroy matched and raised him another two blue.

  Presley checked and met the bet. The queen of hearts came next. The eyebrow again. Presley could almost guarantee Leroy was sitting on two pair. But if he was right, his three threes would still put him ahead. He’d come too far, sucked Leroy too deep to turn back now. “In for a penny,” Presley muttered as he added two more blue chips to the stack.

  Leroy checked, and they both waited for the next card. When the dealer flipped a three, Presley knew he had it made.

  “In for a pound. I’m all in.” Presley pushed his stack of chips to the middle of the table.

  The band stopped playing. Chandler scooted back from the table, knocking his chair over as he stood.

  “How much have you got there?” Leroy separated his own chips into stacks while the dealer organized Presley’s all-in bet.

  “He’s got more than you, sir. If you go all in and lose, he’ll win the game.” The dealer was a pro. His expression didn’t convey a thing.

  “What do you think you’re up to?” Leroy fiddled with the end of his braid. “Fine. Let’s end this. I’m all in too.”

  The drummer started a soft drumroll. It grew louder as the dealer’s hand reached for the last card in the center of the table. He turned and flipped, and a one-eyed ja
ck peered up at Presley. Full house. Leroy had a full house.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Bristol. That’s a great hand.”

  “Damn straight it is. Are you going to show me what you’ve got or just toss in?”

  “I swear, this has never happened to me in all the years I’ve been playing poker.” Presley slowly flipped his cards, enjoying the moment when Leroy Bristol realized he’d been beat. “Four of a kind. And threes. Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Dammit!” Leroy’s fist slammed onto the table, scattering poker chips across the stage.

  That didn’t matter. What mattered was the piece of paper he reluctantly held out to Presley. Title and deed to Kermit’s acreage.

  As SoCal and his uncle stormed off the stage, Presley was surrounded by his family and friends. The only person he wanted to see was Dixie. She slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet.

  “You did it!” Her arms went around his neck.

  “We did it.” He nuzzled his nose into her neck, breathing her in.

  “Congratulations, you two.” Kermit and Genie joined them.

  “Does this mean my toads get to stay where they are?” Kermit asked.

  “You’ll have to ask Dixie about that,” Presley said.

  “Me?” Dixie pulled back to meet his gaze. “You won the land. Why would he have to ask me?”

  He pressed the piece of paper into her hand. “I want you to have it. You can run your studio and shop on the front half here by the Rose, and Kermit can keep the toads on the back half.”

  “I can’t accept this. You should give it back to Kermit.” Dixie pushed his hand with the piece of paper in it toward her grandmother.

  “Don’t you dare give it to Kermit,” Eugenia said. “If he gets to keep his land and his house, he’ll never agree to move in with me.”

  “Your grandma’s right, hon. I don’t need that much space anymore. It’s time I moved closer to town. As long as I have a place for my toads, I’ll be happy.”

  “See?” Presley held the paper out to her again.

  She took it. “Kermit, I promise as long as we own this land, you’ll always have a place for your toads.”

  Presley nodded in agreement. “Wait, we? Who’s we?”

  She rose to her tiptoes and spoke into his ear. “There’s plenty of room for my jewelry studio and space for a woodworking workshop too, don’t you think?”

  “What, like partners?” He searched her gaze. All he saw there was a reflection of his own happiness.

  “Exactly like partners. What do you say, Presley Walker? I think we’d make a pretty good team.”

  He pulled her tighter against him. “I couldn’t agree more. But with one change to our agreement.”

  “What’s that?”

  “More kissing, less talking.”

  She laughed into his shirt. “That’s my kind of agreement.”

  “Then prove it, Fireball.”

  “You think anyone would mind if we slipped away for a round or two of mini-golf?”

  His lips split into a wide smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Epilogue

  The crowd sat in white folding chairs she’d rented especially for the occasion. Dixie peered through the back window of the house, her gaze lighting on all of the people she loved. All of the people except her parents. They hadn’t come around to the notion that not everyone would bend to their will, so they’d refused to attend. As far as Dixie was concerned, that was a blessing in disguise. The afternoon would be more fun without them.

  Liza poked her head through the door holding little Bea in her arms. Bea wasn’t old enough to walk down the aisle by herself, but Gram thought she’d make an adorable flower girl, even if Liza carried her down the aisle flinging rose petals as she went.

  “You ready?” Liza asked.

  Dixie nodded.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  Liza and Bea stood on the porch, the signal that the violinist should begin. Presley had suggested a fiddle, but Dixie had talked him out of it, arguing that a violin was more appropriate for a classic backyard wedding.

  The first strains of “Canon in D” played across her heartstrings.

  “Wait!” Dixie reached into the plastic bin on the table next to her and pulled out the tiny ring bearer. “You can’t go down the aisle without Fernando.”

  Liza tucked the horned toad into the basket of rose petals along with the miniature pillow holding the two rings. “I can’t believe we almost forgot him.”

  As Liza and Bea started down the aisle, Dixie reached for her bouquet.

  “Come on, Gram, they’re ready for us.”

  Dixie’s nerves flickered, causing a burst of laughter to form in her chest. Then Liza stepped out of the way, and Dixie’s gaze fell on Presley. The man was a sight to contend with in denim, but in a tux he was otherworldly, not designed for her mere mortal eyes.

  Her heart fluttered like the wings of the monarch butterflies she and Kermit had lovingly raised from caterpillars. If all went well, they’d be releasing them right after the “I do’s.”

  Presley’s steady gaze pulled her down the aisle. Not too fast, not too slowly. Just the way they’d practiced.

  When she reached the end, she turned. Gram stood at the other end, glowing in a silver gown with thousands of seed beads hand-sewn to the bodice. She only had eyes for Kermit. The “Wedding March” began, and Dixie followed Gram’s progress down the aisle, one step at a time.

  To see the love Gram and Kermit had for each other filled Dixie with happiness. She glanced to Presley as Gram reached for Kermit’s arm and they turned toward the preacher. After a short ceremony, the butterflies were released, and the real party began.

  Dixie moved from helping with the buffet to cutting the cake to making sure the gifts were stashed inside. She made more tea, gave Bea a bottle so Liza could take a break, and helped Gram change into her travel attire. The newlyweds were going to be taking a monthlong honeymoon with a stop at the National Park in Indonesia to see Komodo dragons.

  As the happy couple strolled down the aisle and climbed into the backseat of Gram’s Chevy, Dixie finally sank into a chair, put up her feet, and relaxed. It didn’t take Presley long to find her. He sat down next to her, pulled her feet into his lap, and began to rub.

  “Oh my gosh, that feels amazing.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the chair. “Your hands are your greatest gift. I called that way back when we first started dating, remember?”

  “That’s right. You said I had nice nails.” He dug his fingers into her heel, just the way she liked it.

  “I meant hands. Who looks at a guy’s nails?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Oh shut up, you love me.” It gave her a thrill to be able to say that, to feel so secure in her relationship with Presley that she could count on his love and affection.

  “I do, I do.” As he shifted positions to show her other foot some attention, a button popped off his shirt and bounced across the floor.

  Dixie cracked an eye open. “What was that?”

  “Damn, I lost a button.”

  “Where?” She peered at the floor underneath the table, her eyes too bleary to properly focus. “You’d better find it. Whitey will charge us an arm and a leg if we bring your rented tux shirt back without a button.”

  “There it is.” Presley leaned down to pick up the button up off the floor. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  She wanted to call out not to leave her feet unattended. Lavishing attention on one of them and not the other left her feeling unbalanced. But she was too tired to summon the energy to speak.

  By the time Presley returned, she was practically asleep. He shifted her feet back into his lap.

  “Rub.”

 
“Awfully bossy tonight, aren’t you?” he joked.

  “Why aren’t you rubbing?” She cracked open an eye. “What are you doing?”

  “Hold up, I’ll be done in a minute.”

  “Presley! What are you doing to your shirt?”

  “Relax.” He bent low, took something between his teeth, then sat up. “There. Good as new.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” She glanced from his face to his shirt and back to his face again. “Did you seriously just sew on a button?”

  His cheeks pinked. It had to be the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Big bad Presley, sewing a button on his shirt at her grandma’s wedding.

  “Do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?” She bit her lip, knowing it drove him crazy.

  “Really? From a button?”

  “Yes, from a button.” She climbed into his lap, snuggling up against him. “After I sleep for a few days, you’re going to get some great sex.”

  “Car sex?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Damn. You know, I’ve been thinking.” He rubbed small circles on her back with one hand.

  “Uh-oh. Last time you did that we ended up hand-feeding piglets 24/7.”

  “This is different. You know when Kermit and your gram come back, they’re going to be moving into her house.”

  “Yeah?” Dixie had been waiting for this conversation. It was inevitable.

  “What would you think about maybe moving your stuff into my place?”

  She wouldn’t make it easy for him. “Just my stuff?”

  He brushed her hair off her cheek. “Your stuff and you.”

  “I could maybe do that.”

  “Maybe? But I learned how to sew a button on for you.”

  “That was a great start, honey, and I’m so proud of you. But I’ve been thinking too.”