Picking Roses

by BA Tortuga

  “Yeah. At least this has sesame dealies.” There was one place that just gave you a half a loaf of white bread, still in the bag. Roadside barbecue, that place.

  “So what do they serve with barbecue where you’re from?”

  “Oh, the places up my way usually do crusty French stuff. Or cornbread.”

  “Mmm. Cornbread.” She didn’t sweeten her tea. He sort of filed that away, too. It was a little creepy, how he wanted to know all this stuff. Was he getting all stalkery? Shit, he hoped not. Les munched some bread with sauce, just to shut up his brain. “So, what have you been doing, the last few weeks?” she asked.

  Looked like he wasn’t the only one who wanted to know stuff. His brain stood up to cheer, but he played it cool.

  “Well, I took a week off or so, just to get over that groin pull. Then I did a couple small rodeos before I went back to the ranch and squared things with my boss to come here.” He didn’t have to be back until two weeks after Labor Day.

  “Was he upset that you came?”

  “Nope. He just wanted to make sure I’d be back for winter this year. It’d leave him in the lurch if I didn’t go move stock to winter pasture.” He wouldn’t do that to old man Harris.

  “That would suck, huh? I’ve just been working.”

  “Well, I’ll be about a bit, if you want to go out and cut a rug or some such. We never got to dance in Cheyenne.”

  “I’d love that. I work normal office hours—three days at the city, two at the library.”

  “Well, there you go. I’d love it, too.” He loved it so much that he was hanging out in a trailer house with six early twenty-something to late teen bull riders, putting his sleeping bag out on their screened porch. Least it had a fan and not too many bugs.

  He moved the beans side of the plate closer to her. Seemed like she liked spicy. He’d remember that. She was from Louisiana, she’d told him at the Village Inn, sprinkling hot sauce on her eggs.

  They chatted while they ate, and it was just like before—solid and easy, and he felt like she enjoyed listening to him, gave a shit what he had to say. She was so pretty too. He could watch her forever, just jones on the way her mouth moved, the way her hair smelled.

  “Is my lipstick messed up, Les?” Rosie dabbed her mouth.

  “Huh?” Oh, shit, was he staring? “No, honey. It’s fine.”

  “You sure?” She winked at him. “This makeup stuff is way more work than the television lets on.”

  “I’m sure. You look perfect.” He thought she was beautiful without the makeup.

  He watched that sweet face turn pink, from her lips to her dark hair. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Les let his fingers brush over hers again, because he could.

  Her fingers curled with his, squeezed, just for a second.

  Les smiled, letting that be enough for now. He had beans and brisket, and the prettiest girl ever sitting next to him. He just had to stay in the saddle between now and the whistle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “And the big bad wolf said, ‘I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blo-o-o-o-o-ow your house down!’” Rose grinned as the three and four year olds laughed, clapping as she read. Preschool story time made her happy. Summer reading club was sort of a special thing, from beginning to end.

  She had drawn a million piggies, had bounced around the library like a kangaroo, and had become a master of monkey noises.

  She was having a ball.

  The kids were, too, she could tell. There was a towheaded pair of twins who made her biological clock tick, and they loved the big bad wolf. A lot. She finished the book, they sang the circle song, then she got her hugs and kisses. By the time everyone had been delivered to their folks, she was ready to get off work and go have supper and a movie with her cowboy.

  Who was standing just outside the children’s area, hat in his hand, smiling at her with his white teeth and bright blue eyes. Beautiful man.

  “Oh, look at you smile.” Lindsay nudged her, took the box of supplies from her with a wicked grin. “Go. Have fun. Return Tuesday with tales of naughtiness that will fuel my dreams.”

  “Linds!”

  “Go, girlfriend. You. Me. Lunch. Tuesday.”

  She nodded, chuckled and waved to Les. “Come meet my friend, cowboy.”

  Les nodded easily, walking over, his long old legs seeming to move slow but eating up the space. He smiled at Lindsey, who fluttered a bit. “Ma’am.”

  “Lindsay, Les. Les, Lindsay.” She chuckled under her breath as her increasingly pregnant friend blushed and fluttered.

  “Pleased to meet you. You mind me being nosy? Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “It’s a boy.” Lindsay’s hand rubbed over her belly. “James Marcus.”

  Rose grinned, pleased that the usual jealous pang hadn’t come this time. “This is number three for her and Frankie.”

  “Number three. Well, congratulations.” Les shook Lindsay’s hand, just sweet as pie, before turning to her. “You ready, Rosie?”

  “Yes, sir.” She grabbed her purse from behind her desk, made sure her blouse was passable.

  He offered his arm, letting her rest her hand in the crook of his elbow. “So, what movie are we gonna see tonight, honey?”

  “Nothing sad. You have a choice between explosions and gunfights.”

  “Gunfights, huh?” He gave her a sideways glance. “Which one is grosser?” He’d been around a few weeks, now. He knew she didn’t like a lot of gore.

  “The cop one seems like it’s a little nasty. The other one’s like a spaceship thing, so more monsters.” Lord, it was warm outside.

  “Spaceships it is.” Poor Les had to be melting. He’d told her it hardly ever got higher than eighty where he lived.

  “Come on. Let’s eat. It’s deadly out here today.” She led him into Pecina’s, sat him down.

  “Thanks. I could use some iced tea, for sure.” His hat came off again. His momma had raised him right.

  “Poor mountain cowboy. Don’t you melt away, now. You leave that to Frosty the Snowman.” She waved to the waitress and got them a couple of teas. “How was your day? I didn’t expect you to pick me up at the library.”

  “Oh, I had to be downtown anyway, had to go to the Western Union. Mom’s debit card got canceled again.” Les chuckled. “They’re traveling fools.”

  “Oh, man. How scary! Are they still in Mexico?”

  “Yeah. Somewhere by the seashore.” He reached over, touching her fingers. He was a hand-holder, her Les. Except he wasn’t hers. No, sir. Because she didn’t get serious cowboys.

  She did hold hands with them, though. “So, do you want enchiladas today or burritos?”

  “I think enchiladas. I do love the gravy stuff. Oh! Or them avocado ones.” She’d found out that as far as Les was concerned, enchiladas came with green chile. He’d been exploring his options every time they went out.

  She laughed and nodded. “I want a fajita taco. One of the babies at story time must have had them for lunch. I’ve been smelling fajitas all day.”

  “Well, there you go. Need to get that out of your system. Then maybe some sopapillas.” The man had an unnatural fascination with fried bread. It was cute.

  “You’re going to make me fat.” She chuckled, leaned against him for half a second.

  “Uh-huh. I’m not sure that’s possible, honey.”

  “Well, maybe.” She winked, settled back when the waitress brought the chips.

  “Maybe.” He tilted his head like a dog hearing a whistle. “Why didn’t you have kids?”

  “What?” She grinned, blinked. That had come out of nowhere.

  “You and Timmy. Why didn’t you have kids?” His ears were on fire, but he carried on, bless him. “I saw you at the library. You love them.”

  “I do. We both did. I…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “We just didn’t ever catch and I. Well, I went to the lady doctor and… Well, all my tests were good, so— Well, Timmy thought we’d just wa
it and see if it happened.”

  Because her cowboy wasn’t going to jerk off into some cup or anything. Not ever.

  “Ah.” Les nodded sagely. “Yeah, I can see that.” He gave her a gentle smile.

  Oh. Oh, good. Okay. Yay. He understood. Heck, it was a common problem among roughstock riders, right?

  She really didn’t want to have to explain more.

  “Do you like babies?” Cowboys tended to like them, tended to want them. Not that she cared because she wasn’t dating and if she was dating, it wouldn’t be a cowboy…

  “I do. I mean, I have a couple of nephews, and I’ve always been good with them.” If his ears went redder, they might’ve burst into flames.

  “Oh, that’s neat. I mean, kids are…” She glanced at Les, then they both started laughing. “We’re great big dorks.”

  “We are. Look, queso.” They started in on the cheese dip, and talk turned back to movies and stuff.

  Every so often their eyes would meet, though, and his expression would sort of…burn. He watched her eat too. Like when she’d bet he thought she wasn’t noticing. His gaze settled on her mouth a lot.

  By the end of dinner, she was shivering just a little, her nipples hard as rocks. She might not get serious about cowboys, but she sure wanted this one.

  Les picked up the bill, which he’d been doing a lot of, and helped her up when they were ready to head out. He’d gotten all cowboy on her the one time she argued hard about going Dutch.

  “You know… We could go back to my place and just watch a movie, if you wanted…”

  “Yeah? I’d like that.” Les led her to the truck, the heat waves battering at them.

  “Me too. I have popcorn, I bought the beer you like, and we can relax.” Wait. Was that a come-on? Was that cool? She felt psycho, wavering back and forth between ready for action and scared to death.

  “Sure, honey.” His hand lingered on her waist when he helped her up in the truck, but he wasn’t smarmy or anything.

  Rose caught herself fluttering, and she looked over at Les, reached for his hand where it sat on the seat between them. “I’m all bouncy tonight.”

  “I don’t mind a bit, honey.” He gave her this little sideways glance, mouth kicking up, and it made her flutter some more.

  “You…” She fanned herself a little bit. “Lord have mercy, it’s warm out today.” And she was being hormonal and psycho.

  “It is melty.” He turned the air up for a little.

  Alan Jackson came on the radio and she hummed along, swaying side to side. Les chuckled, making the turn on the highway that would take them back to her place. He was learning his way around pretty good.

  “Are you laughing at me, cowboy?” She dared to stretch over again, touch his thigh playfully.

  “No, ma’am. I’m enjoying you singing.” He reached down and squeezed her hand.

  She let her fingers twine with his, thumb rubbing a scar on his hand. “This from roping?”

  “Yep. Not rodeoin’, though. There was this rogue calf and an impending late-season blizzard.” His fingers felt fine against hers.

  “Was the calf okay?” Poor hand. Ropes could be vicious, but what those boys could do was fascinating.

  “Yeah. He made it through.” Les seemed so pleased that it made her laugh.

  “We had cattle when Timmy was alive—twenty of them. They were neat.”

  “Yeah? Did he throw calf nuts at you?” Something about Les’ expression told her he’d done that.

  She giggled, winked. “Only the once. I did a lot of the work with them, because he traveled.”

  “So you can work cattle?” Now that look was pure admiration. “Go you, honey.”

  “I can. Don’t tell anyone, but Timmy couldn’t ride a horse, so I did. He did his stuff on the four-wheeler.”

  “No shit? Well, I guess some guys can’t. I’ve seen it at rodeos, fellers who can’t do their victory lap.” They turned into her lot, and Les slid his monster of a truck right into the visitor’s spot.

  “Yeah, it’s different—sport versus cowboying.”

  “Yep. Got to admit that’s why I never went to bull riding full-time.” Those wide shoulders moved in a shrug. “Smaller rodeos are kinder to cowboys like me.”

  “Yeah. It… It’s not fun so much, being the wife in the big show. They like the boys to be available so the women come watch and get autographs signed.”

  “Yeah? Well, I guess I can see that. That’d make me crazy, it was the other way around, though.” He helped her out of the truck, hand on her bare arm, right up next to her breast.

  She smiled, leaned into him a little. “Yeah. I guess you’ve seen the boys tear it up ’cause somebody danced with somebody else’s gal or something.”

  “Hell, yes. My sister’s husband, ’fore he was, you know. He would try to tear the head off anyone who cast eyes on her.”

  “There you go. I used to dance with Andy Baxter all the time, till me and Timmy got married. Then he wouldn’t have it.” It was how it worked.

  “Well, no. I’d expect you to— Oh! Oh, honey, that’s what we ought to do.” Les swung her back around and headed right for the truck.

  “Les?” She laughed, following along.

  “We’re going dancing, honey.” He twirled her in a little do-si-do. “I owe you one, you know?

  “Oh. Oh, are you sure?” Oh, God. She… She loved dancing and she hadn’t in so long and…

  Yeah. Wow.

  Of course, he was tall and she wasn’t. They probably wouldn’t fit together at all. It would probably be a disaster. Then she’d know, right? She’d know that they weren’t meant to be together.

  “I really do. You just point me toward the honky tonk.” He helped her back into the truck, giving her some serious déjà vu.

  “Uh… The Ranch House has a sweet little dance floor and a band on Thursday.” She pointed down the interstate.

  “Then we’ll head there, have a beer.” He gave her a little smile. “Or a glass of wine. Scoot our boots.”

  “For real? I mean, you don’t have to…” But, man, she hoped he wanted to.

  “For real, honey. I like to dance with a pretty girl.” That made her blush, duck her head, and smile. They busted on down the highway to the Ranch House, and Les let out an appreciative whistle when they pulled in. “Now this is a good place to dance.”

  “It is. I mean, it used to be. It’s been a while.” Oh, God. What if she sucked at dancing now?

  “Well, I might be a little rusty, but I think we’ll do all right.”

  There weren’t too many trucks in the lot yet, so maybe she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

  “We’ll be fine.” They headed in to the bar and Les paid their cover. Sometimes it was good to be the girl.

  “We will. Let’s get that little table over there, huh? What do you want to drink, honey?” Les held her chair. It was the little things he did automatically that made him so amazing.

  “I think I’d like a Bud Light, please.”

  “Be right back.” Bending, he kissed her cheek, making it very clear who she was there with to any of the cowboys who might be watching.

  She smoothed her hair, made sure her shirt was okay.

  Les came back with a Bud Light and a Coors. She gave him no end of teasing about his Colorado beer. “There now. Band starts in fifteen minutes. I made sure they were good for two-steppin’.”

  “Oh, neat.” She didn’t bounce. She didn’t. Because she didn’t fall in love with cowboys anymore and she’d never fallen in love with one who danced and Les was tall and it probably wouldn’t work. There went the crazy voice in her head again.

  “Yep. Good thing we ate, though, else I’d be ordering one of everything fried.” Les winked before settling next to her. The man positively never sat across from her. He said he wanted to be close enough to hold hands.

  “I used to love their onion rings.” She sipped her beer, humming at the cold when it hit her belly.

  “We m
ay have to get some later, just to keep our strength up.” The band got up on the stage, doing a little tuning.

  “That would be fun. They have ranch dip.” Her feet were already tapping and the beer made her feel warm.

  “I like that. I like the ranch stuff with the chiles too.” Les had taken a liking to the chipotle ranch stuff. That man could eat.

  “I bought the stuff to make you homemade gumbo.” She grinned, winked. “Don’t worry, it’s not Beau’s recipe—it’s my mom’s.”

  He gave her a little bit of a blank look, but smiled and nodded. “I like gumbo.”

  “Mmm. I do too. We’ll have that and cornbread. You just tell me when is good for you.” She had the stuff for caramels, too, but that was a surprise.

  “Well, I got no plans to ride this Sunday.” He nudged her leg with his, real gentle.

  “It’s a date, then.” She let herself rub back, her toes curling a little.

  The band finally started up, and she figured they’d sit a bit, because no one else was out there dancing. She was wrong. Les got right up and offered his hand.

  “Come on, Rosie. Let’s cut a rug.”

  “Surely.” She took his hand, reminding herself that this wasn’t going to work. It was going to be like a sign from God.

  He led her out on the dance floor, turning her to face him. He took her hand and her waist and off they went, starting off with a nice, slow waltz.

  Oh.

  Oh, damn.

  She used to dream about dancing with a boy when she was little, and she’d danced with a lot of cowboys since then and had loved it. It hadn’t ever been better than she’d imagined, though. Les held her like a man who knew what he was doing, a man who liked to dance. She fit right up against his breastbone, kinda, and it should have been bumpy. It wasn’t.

  Rose closed her eyes and let him lead her around. She could hear his heart beating, sweet and soft, right in her ear. His chest vibrated when he hummed with the music, and before she knew it, the tempo changed. Les stepped out smartly to the two-step, really giving her a go.

  God was either the meanest thing ever, or loved her more than she deserved, because she wasn’t ever dating a cowboy ever again, but she sure as shit was falling in love with one. Strong arms held her close, long legs ate up the floor, and she felt like she was floating. Oh, he was good.