by BA Tortuga
“Oh, that would be neat. I’ll buy supper, after, if you want.”
“That would be fine. Real fine.” Lord, he was tickled pink as Pepto.
“Cool.” She scribbled a number down on a piece a napkin. “This is my number. If you need the tickets or something.”
“Thanks, honey.” Les figured he’d best return the favor. He pulled out a little card from his wallet and handed it over. He’d had them made up when he was doing handyman work in Steamboat a year or so ago. “There’s my cell. Call me if you get bored tomorrow and want to go see a movie or some such.”
She took the card, put it in a glittery pink wallet. “Thank you, Les. You’ve been so dear.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” It really had. He couldn’t remember ever liking a woman’s company more in such a short time.
He could only hope he’d get a chance to see more of her in the next couple of days.
Chapter Four
Rose headed downstairs closer to noon than eleven, hoping to catch the bus to town. She’d been up later than she’d been in five years, and when she’d fallen asleep, she’d dreamed about Timmy, her pocket cowboy with his dark, laughing eyes.
Of course, when she got downstairs, it was a very different Wrangler butt she saw standing by the bench outside. Les, her dinner cowboy from last night.
He was tall and blond, with shockingly blue eyes that rested on her like she was so fine. Too bad he was a cowboy just like her Timmy. Summers only or not, he rode the rodeo.
She smiled at him, waved when his gaze caught her. “Morning.”
“Hey, there. You heading into the park?” Les’ eyes lit with a bright pleasure when he looked at her.
“I was going to go hunt for food and then maybe wander downtown. You?”
“That was my plan too. I could chauffeur.” He held out a hand, natural as anything.
“You don’t mind?” She slipped her hand in his, her smile going wide.
“Not one bit.” He tugged her out into the sunshine, heading for his truck.
“Thank you. Did you get some rest?”
“I did. I slept good.” His cheeks pinked, but he didn’t give any indication that it was a bad thing.
“Good deal.” She was much more comfortable today—jeans and layered tank tops, flip-flops and her hair in a long ponytail.
“So what are you hungry for? I bet you get Mexican at home. They got this great pizza place.” His truck was a shiny gray in the daylight, with a cling sticker on the pass-through window that said, “Let ’er Buck.”
“I love pizza.” Rose settled in and grinned at Les. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, spending time with this guy. Hell, there was no telling—Beau or AJ might’ve asked him to look out for her. That would be sad, but life could disappoint and she might as well enjoy it now. “If that works for you, it works for me.”
“I do too.” His eyes slid over to meet hers right before he pulled out. “You don’t like anything weird on it, do you?”
“Pepperoni. Mushrooms if they’re not slimy. You?”
“I like meat. Onions if I’m not gonna offend. Maybe mushrooms.” Those tanned hands handled the truck like nothing going. “Looks like we’re good.”
“Boys always like meat on pizza.” She’d never met a cowboy one that didn’t. Meat and jalapenos.
“Well, sure we do.” His hat tilted to one side, a sure sign of a cowboy trying to think. “Unless they’re a sissy vegetarian man.”
Rose wasn’t sure she’d ever met a guy who was a vegetarian. “I think you have to be famous and into yoga for that.”
“Yeah?” They pulled into a little shopping center. “There was this guy I knew once who was a cameraman for the finals rodeo. He only ate tofu.”
“Ew.” Her nose wrinkled. Dillon Walsh ate tofu once at a Chinese restaurant. Timmy said Gramps Pharris and Nate had filled the clown’s shorts with the weird stuff for the whole rest of the event.
“Yeah.” Grinning, he pulled in at the front of a little place that already smelled like tomato and garlic by noon-thirty. The joint was busy, too, with families and cowboys and teenagers going in and out. It didn’t take too long to get a table, though, and the music was solid, classic country.
“Thanks, ma’am.” Les had manners, at least. He was so nice to the hostess that they got bread and water right away instead of waiting for the waitress. Not flirty nice, just nice.
She sipped her water, watching all the different kinds of cowboys wandering around—from goat ropers to Texans, mountain cowboys and redneck wannabes. Big rodeos brought them out of the woodwork.
Good thing she wasn’t into rodeoing.
Or cowboys.
“So, you want to share a pizza, hon? Or do you want a lunch special?” Les had taken off his hat and put it brim up in the chair next to him. His hair was cut ruthlessly short, and it was either prematurely gray or so sun-bleached that it was all white.
“We can share.” Was that too familiar? She chuckled at herself. Jesus, Rosie. Get a grip. You’re making a friend. Relax.
“Oh, good.” He gave her a raised brow expression. “Now the most important question. What kind of crust do you like?”
She chuckled. “If it’s crunchy on the bottom, thick. If it’s going to be gooey, then I’d rather have thin. You?”
“I like the thick, but I’m like you. No goo. They do buttery goodness here.” Les nodded at the waitress, who came to take their order right away.
They ended up with pepperoni thick crust, two Cokes, and an order of fried cheese to split. “God, it smells like heaven in here,” Rosie said.
“Heaven is a steakhouse in Omaha, honey. I’ve been there. This is good, though.” He laughed, stretching his arms up over his head.
She liked the way his shirt stretched over his belly, liked the way his arms bulged. His hands were tan like his face, but she could see his arms were pale up under the shirtsleeves. Working man’s tan. Timmy didn’t have that—he had been a sun worshipper and a wild child. She was surprised to find Les’ farmer’s tan just a little bit hot.
“Do you like steak?”
“I do, but only if someone else cooks it. It makes me a little queasy, touching it raw.” She blushed, rolled her eyes at herself. “I know it’s silly, but true.”
“Well, as long as you like it, it’s all good.” Look at that smile. He was really something else. Not that she went for his type.
Nope.
No cowboys.
“So, what about you? Do you like sweets?” She loved to bake—she told herself, when she got a chance, she’d go to pastry school in Shreveport, maybe. Even if she hated school.
“I like the ones with fruit, you know? Apple strudel. Cherry pie.”
“Mmm. Cherries.” She nodded, smiled at the waitress when the fried cheese came. “Oh, man. If Presley was here, he’d be having a fit to get to the cheese.”
“Your dog, right?” Those long fingers snagged a piece of the cheese, but Les dropped it right back on the platter. “Whoa, hot.”
“Don’t burn yourself, now…” She handed him a napkin. “Are you okay?”
“I have a blister.” Holding up his index finger, Les chuckled. “You could kiss it better,” he teased.
“Goodnight…” She took his hand, tutting around the blister, touching the area gently. “Man.”
“Gotta watch that melty cheese, huh?” His voice sounded a little scratchy all of a sudden.
“You do, Les. What if you’d just bitten into it? Ow. Your poor mouth would be all burnt.”
“Yeah.” His fingers curled around hers and squeezed a moment before he sat back and let go. “Red sauce smells good, huh?”
“It does.” She sat back, snagged a cheese stick with her fork, cut it up to let the steam out.
Those blue eyes never left her, Les watching her as if she was about to do something amazing. It could have made her twitchy, but it didn’t seem strange, somehow. Rose smiled at him, dipped her bite, and hummed over the flavo
r. Oh, man. So crispy outside and creamy in, with a sting of acid-y tomato.
“Yum.” He blinked, then chuckled and served him up a bite, finally glancing away. His cheeks were all pink under his tan again.
“So, when did you ride your first horse?” She knew cowboys and, even if they didn’t like riding, like her Timmy, they had a story about it.
“I don’t remember, really. First time I rode alone I think I was maybe five. I mean like without someone holding the reins.” This one liked to ride. She could tell by the way his eyes lit up when he talked about it.
“Yeah? I was a little older—maybe eight. I had a little buckskin at my grampa’s.” Buck had been mean as a snake and toothy as fuck, but they’d had an agreement.
“I have a pretty little mare up at the ranch. I ride all of the ranch remuda, but she’s mine. Quarter horse mustang mix.” Les seemed so proud. He was adorable.
“Oh, how neat! What’s her name?”
“Scamp. She can be something else.” Les split the last cheese thingee to share with her.
“Thank you.” She licked the grease off her fingers. “Do you know how to ski? Do they let you live in Colorado if you can’t ski?”
“I do. Know how, I mean. I’m not sure about the Colorado ski law, but in Steamboat they teach it in school.” Their pizza came, and Les moaned a little. “Oh, smell that.”
Rose chuckled. Boys did love their pizza. “Are you sure Heaven’s in…was it Idaho?”
“Nebraska. Of course, there’s a pizza place in Idaho Springs, Colorado that might be close. They have a salad bar to die for.” Bless him, he pulled a piece out for her first, then himself.
“Thank you.” She sprinkled red pepper on hers. “There’s a barbecue joint near me that has a salad bar. It has amazing chocolate pudding.”
“Does it? Do they have good brisket? I remember that about the summers I spent on the Texas circuit.” He didn’t salt or pepper, he just dug in, dipping the tip in the leftover sauce from the fried cheese.
“They do. Sausage too. So you ride in the summer and are a working cowboy in the winter?”
“Mostly, yeah. Sometimes I get work up in Montana in the summer, but I make more money riding the circuit. I get the horses pretty well. The bulls I’m not such good friends with.” Les licked his fingers, too, totally at ease.
“I’ve never been to Montana. Tim…my husband, he loved to ride there. Won the event there twice.”
“It’s big sky.” Long fingers reached out and snagged a pepperoni off her pizza. It had been dangling off the side anyway.
“Thief!” She chuckled, stuck her tongue out at him. “Snatching a girl’s pepperoni!” Man, that sounded dirty.
“It was a dangler.” Les blinked at her a moment, then hooted. They both laughed hard enough that the whole restaurant stared, but it was okay. She hadn’t had a hard laugh in too long.
They finished off the pizza in record time, both of them patting full bellies. “We ought to go downtown and walk it off, huh?”
“Sounds like a plan.” She stole the bill from under his hand. “You got supper last night.”
“Oh, now, you don’t have to, honey. You’re taking me to a concert tomorrow.” He stole it right back.
“Les… You have to promise to let me buy your beer tomorrow, then.”
“I can do that.” Les paid the bill and left the waitress a nice tip before they headed out and drove downtown, before parking in the nice big parking garage they had down there. Les chatted at her the whole way… Well, he had her chatting, asking her questions to keep her going.
They headed down into the sunny afternoon, her hand on the crook of his arm. All the stores were open and the depot was filled with little vendors.
“Where to first, honey? Looks like the western wear place is having a sale.”
“I don’t want to bore you to death, but…” She chuckled, pointing at the mechanical horse sign that was galloping at the top of the store. “Oh, look!”
“That’s a local icon, huh? Been there for years. ’Sides, I could use a female opinion on a new pair of Wranglers.”
“Opinions I’m good at.” And admiring cowboy butts. She’d admired thousands. “I need to hunt for a shirt to wear to the concert, too.” Something nice and crisp and pretty.”
“There you go. You got any good dancin’ boots?” His hand slid down to grab hers, and he twirled her into a little turn, right there on the sidewalk, making her feel like Cinderella.
Oh, wow. And also, yay. “I do. I love to dance.”
“Good deal. They got an after party tent where the dancing is pretty tight. We could go after the concert.” Les dipped her in a shallow swing.
She peered at his face, just to make sure he wasn’t just being nice. He sure seemed pleased.
“That sounds like a ball, Les.” She leaned up, kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
A big smile dawned on his face, and he nodded, tucking her arm back in to take her across the street. “You’re welcome, Miss Rose.”
The store was a madhouse—cowboys and girls and sales people running amok, a line for the bull riders’ signing going down the center. She nodded at AJ and Packer, then grinned as bullfighter Coop jumped up to hug her.
“Rosarita! Sweet girl. Nattie said Beau mentioned you were in town.”
She hugged Coop tight. He’d broken a hip trying to save Timmy, and had appointed himself her protection when Beau and Sammy weren’t around. “I am. I’m shopping.”
“Good on you. You need anything? Ace is taking care of you?”
She nodded. “Ace is. Beau is. Les is. Y’all are making this a wonderful trip.”
“Les?” Coop peered over her shoulder. Les was right there, even if he was hanging back a tiny bit, shifting from foot to foot.
“He’s a bronc rider. He’s showing me around.” She smiled back, held out one hand for the dear man.
“Hey, Mr. Cooper. Les Jacoby.” Les came right up and shook Coop’s hand, his other hand landing on her waist.
“I’ve seen you ride. For someone with long old legs you do all right. Pleased. You be careful with our Rosarita, now. She’s tiny.”
“I am not,” Rosie said, then poked out her chin.
Coop winked at her. “Shit, baby girl, you’re littler’n Jason Scott.”
“I’ll treat her right.” Les chuckled, gave her a squeeze. “She’s good at standing up for herself, I’d bet. She knows her own mind.”
“That she does. I got fans. Y’all be good.” Coop slipped her a receipt. “Here. This is good for a hundred dollars’ worth of clothes. Have fun.”
“Coop!” She couldn’t take that.
“Gotta go.” Coop waved and went back to the table.
Les just swung her around and headed her toward the girly shirts. “Looks like you got some big brothers, huh?”
“I do. After my folks died, then Timmy, they just worry. It’s nice to have family.”
“It is. Good on you, honey.” Les leaned close to her ear, laughing a little, but not mean at all. “Rosarita.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least it wasn’t Rosie Posie, hmm?”
“I like Rosie.” He paused a moment. “’Less your husband called you that. Then it might be awkward, huh?”
Rose smiled. “Timmy called me Robbie. My middle name is Roberta and his was Robert.”
“Well, that’s cute as hell.” Les squeezed her again before letting her go. “Now, you need to find a sparkly shirt that will go from concert to honky tonk.”
“And you promised to give me a Wrangler butt fashion show.” Oh. Oh, man. She was flirting, like officially flirting. Rose felt downright giddy.
“I did. So I guess we got to take turns.” Les glanced around and found an unoccupied seat over by the dressing room, which was a minor miracle. “You first.”
Chapter Five
Les sat next to Rosie at the theater, digging popcorn out of the bucket she held on her lap. He’d tried to be a gentleman and hold it, but wh
en she got all wrapped up in the movie and started digging around…
Well, his tight new Wranglers got a lot tighter, and he was sure afraid he’d embarrass himself.
They’d agreed on an action movie—one silly enough that it had her laughing, gory enough that she hid her face in his shoulder at the bloody parts. She was soft and warm and her dark hair smelled like flowers. Otherwise, she kinda smelled like steak and onion blossoms, but he was a cowboy. That worked for him too.
They’d played all day—shopped and walked, had a beer, shot a game of pool, then walked some more. Hell, he’d walked more today than he had in ages. The girl had legs on her for someone so small. Legs and a fine ass and the prettiest little figure. And her mouth…
Men had gone to war for less than those soft, red lips.
He shifted, a little uncomfortable again. Damn, he needed to get past that, his need riding him like a bronc rider with no paycheck.
“You okay?” Her breath tickled beneath his ear as she whispered.
“Mmmhmm. My jeans are kinda snug. You saw to that, huh?” They’d gone back to the hotel to freshen up a bit before supper and a movie, and he’d wanted to impress her.
“They suit you, sir, down to the ground.”
“Thanks, honey. I like the shirts you picked out, too.” They made her boobs look amazing.
She smiled against his cheek, then settled against him, eyes back on the movie. Lord. He was in way too deep to be seeing a lady who was leaving town in a few days. Right? Right. Christ.
Still, when her hand slid into his, their fingers twining together, he thought it was too late to stop falling.
Les just kind of held her hand and leaped into the void. He’d never been one to question his fate, really.
The good Lord brought her to him—he’d just have to make sure he got to keep her somehow. Good thing Les wasn’t a bit afraid of hard work, and he had his share of grit. Yes, sir.
Chapter Six
His rigging felt as solid as it ever had. His neck brace was on snug, and Les knew his preparation was at least as hardcore as his perspiration. He’d drawn a third generation rodeo mare, a bay with a spotted rump who’d won Bard Natrum ten thousand in Austin back in March.
