Wild Cowboy Ways

by Carolyn Brown

  “He could have called. I put my number on the flyer.” Blake’s excitement level jacked up from the bottom of the barrel to cloud level in the time it took him to find a decent pair of jeans, dust off his boots, and change shirts.

  Blake was on his way to the living room when Deke opened the door and said, “Come on in here out of the cold. Blake and I are about to take a ride. Want to go with us?”

  “No thanks,” Allie answered. “I came to do some measuring for supplies if that’s okay,” she said. “I can do it tomorrow though if y’all are going out.”

  “You’re running away from family.” Deke chuckled.

  “Maybe…But I do need to measure the rooms to get an idea of how much drywall to buy.”

  “You might as well go with us if you are running from family.” Blake grinned.

  “And maybe Grady and Lizzy will get the message if they figure out you’d rather be with us as with them.” Deke chuckled.

  “I didn’t come over here to crash y’all’s party,” she said.

  He’d always seen her in cargo pants and paint-splattered knit shirts, but tonight she wore skinny jeans, cowboy boots, and a knit top that stretched over her breasts and cinched in a tiny waist above well-rounded hips. Her hair, usually worn in two dark braids with a stocking hat stuffed down over them or a ponytail, hung to her shoulders in soft waves.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. You can measure tomorrow morning. We’re going for a ride. Besides you’re dressed up. Be a shame to waste all that beauty.” Deke placed his hands on her shoulders and ushered her out onto the porch. “I’ll drive, Blake, since I know the way.”

  In minutes Allie found herself wedged between two big cowboys in the front seat of Deke’s truck, heading north out of town. The sun was dropping quickly behind the gently rolling hills and the moon had already made its appearance. Stars would be popping out soon, but right then that lazy part of the evening called dusk had settled in and she didn’t care where they were going as long as it took her away from Grady.

  Deke turned the radio on to the country music station but she couldn’t concentrate on the songs that played one after the other. Not with Blake sitting so close that she could practically feel his pulse and especially not when they hit a bump in the road and it sent her sliding even closer to him.

  She righted herself and listened to Lizzy’s voice in her head lecturing her about how foolish she was to even go for a ride with those two bad boys. She pushed the voice away about the time they passed from Throckmorton County over into Baylor County, and her eyes widened, grew dry when she couldn’t blink, and then she gasped.

  “My God, Deke, are you headed for Frankie’s?”

  “I am.” He grinned. “How do you know about Frankie’s?”

  “Everyone knows about it, but…” she stammered.

  Deke patted her knee. “But no decent folks go there, right? Matter of fact, if Frankie don’t know you pretty good, then you don’t get anything but barbecue. He’ll tell you that the beer and the liquor is for his personal use and isn’t for sale. Don’t worry, darlin’. Frankie knows me and if I vouch for you two, he won’t toss you out on your asses.”

  “What is this place, anyway?” Blake asked.

  “Private barbecue club, but I have a membership since Frankie buys his beef from me. Don’t know who he gets the pork from but they’ve probably got a membership card, too.”

  “Have you ever been there?” Blake asked Allie.

  “Hell, no!”

  Deke made a left turn and then a right before the road ended in a rutted trail that led another quarter of a mile through thick mesquite and scrub oak. Finally, he parked in front of a weathered old two-story house with dim lights showing through the downstairs window. “Well, y’all are going tonight. We’re going to have some of the best ribs in the world and then we’re going to have a few drinks and maybe dance to the jukebox.”

  “Sounds like a bar to me,” Blake said. “But it doesn’t look like a bar.”

  “It’s not a bar because half of it is in Throckmorton County and that’s a dry county. The other half of the house is in Baylor County, which is semi-dry. They can sell beer in some parts of it but no liquor by the drink. Truth is the living room is in Throckmorton County. Don’t worry. Nobody messes with Frankie, not even the police. Come on. Let’s go have some fun,” Deke said.

  Allie could sit in the truck all evening or she could crawl out and go into a place even more notorious than Audrey’s Place. Frankie’s had been the evil place that teenagers were afraid to say the name out loud for fear the wind would carry it back to their parents and they’d be put into solitary confinement until they were twenty-one years old.

  Deke walked onto the porch with confidence, slung open the door, and held it for them to enter before him. “Hey, Frankie, these are my friends, Allie and Blake.”

  Allie had always pictured Frankie as someone as big as a refrigerator with a scowl on his face and a shotgun in his hand. She was surprised when a little guy who barely came up to Deke’s shoulder nodded at her. His baby face was round and he wore little round wire-rimmed glasses. There were no wrinkles in his face and his size made it hard to guess his age. She squirmed beneath his dark eyes when they scanned her and Blake.

  “Any friend of Deke’s is a friend of Frankie’s but the first three times you come through that door, he has to be with you. Understood?”

  Allie nodded.

  Blake stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Frankie. I hear you’ve got some of the best barbecue in the state.”

  “No, sir,” Frankie smiled as he pumped Blake’s hand a few times and then dropped it. “And I am Frankie, not Mr. Frankie. Mr. Frankie was my grandpa and my daddy was Little Frankie. I’m just Frankie. And son, my barbecue ain’t some of the best. It is the very best. Now what can I get y’all?”

  “Ribs,” Deke said. “We’ll all have ribs and French fries tonight and maybe a double shot each of your famous brew. After that we’d better settle with beer since none of us wants to be a designated driver.”

  Frankie leaned across the bar and said seriously, “You get wasted, I don’t take your keys, you remember that. You get lost gettin’ out of here, the coyotes can eat you for breakfast.”

  Allie’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and she scanned the room. The bar ran the length of the side where Frankie could watch the front door. A dozen chairs surrounded a couple of mismatched tables pushed up on the other side. It was small for a bar and barbecue combination but large for a living room. She could smell a delicious aroma of smoked beef and pork somewhere at the back of the house.

  Everything was spotless clean. She could see the reflection of the bottles of liquor in the top of the bar. The hardwood floor looked as if it had been freshly waxed and there wasn’t a spot of dust anywhere. She’d always expected something a hell of a lot seedier when she thought of Frankie’s, but then she’d painted a very different picture of the owner, too.

  She propped a hip on a bar stool in between Blake and Deke. “Not what I expected.”

  “Me, either, first time I came here. I thought Frankie would be ten feet tall and bulletproof. I expect he’s still bulletproof even if he isn’t that tall. The place will come to life in about thirty minutes. That’ll give us time to eat and then we can party. I’m taking home a woman tonight. How about you, Blake?”

  “How?” Allie asked. “Y’all going to throw them in the back of the truck?”

  “I’m just here for some beer and maybe a little dancing, not to take someone home,” Blake answered.

  “Why?” Allie asked.

  “Lord, you sound like a newspaper reporter.” Deke laughed.

  Frankie carried three red plastic baskets to the bar, filled to the brim with ribs and steaming hot fries, and lined them up. “Y’all’s the first customers tonight. Now what weight do you want that special brew, Deke?”

  “Peach pie.” Deke smiled.

  “You got it.” Frankie chuckled. />
  “Frankie has several famous brews, but I want you to taste his peach pie first. He manages to make moonshine taste like fresh peach pie right out of the oven. But don’t let it fool you. It’s got a hell of a lot more kick than pie,” Deke explained.

  Frankie reached under the counter and brought out a quart mason jar filled with an amber-colored liquid. Then he set three glasses on the bar and put a double shot in each. “Sip it. Don’t throw it back. It’s made to enjoy.”

  The door opened and a couple of women wearing short skintight skirts, high heels, and crop tops plopped up on bar stools. One of them winked at Deke and he smiled at her.

  “How you doin’, Prissy?” he asked.

  “Right fine, darlin’. You?”

  “Real good. You workin’ or playin’?”

  “Workin’ tonight. You want to book some time?”

  He held up his glass. “Naw, I’m just here for supper and some peach pie.”

  “Good stuff.” She smiled, showing off a gold eyetooth. “How about your buddy?”

  Deke shook his head.

  “Y’all change your mind, I got room three booked and Lacy here has paid for room four.”

  It wasn’t the bite of the peach moonshine that made Allie gasp but the fact that Deke had brought her to a whorehouse as well as an illegal bar. Lord, if the gossip hounds ever got a hold of that bit of news, she and Blake both would be ruined for life. And Blake didn’t act like any of it fazed him one bit!

  Lacy’s butt looked like it was going to pop out of that skirt when she went from the bar to the jukebox and plugged several quarters into it. Then she and Prissy started doing a seductive dance as Etta James’s soulful voice singing “At Last” filled the whole room.

  Allie’s eyes must’ve been the size of saucers because Deke poked her on the arm.

  “I told you that it ain’t a country bar,” he said softly.

  “I kind of gathered that,” Allie said.

  Blake held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

  “What about our food?” she asked.

  “Deke won’t let anyone get it.”

  Deke nudged her with his shoulder. “Go on. Have some fun.”

  She slid off the stool and Blake picked up her hands and wrapped them around his neck. His arms rested loosely around her waist as he began to move slowly and smoothly around the dance floor. The lyrics of the song said that he smiled and the spell was cast. God help her, but truer words had never been spoken.

  Instead of taking her back to the bar he kept dancing when the first chords of guitar music started an old blues song, “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

  “Do you listen to this music?” she asked.

  “No, but my grandpa loves rhythm and blues so I’m no stranger to it,” he answered.

  The third song was something fast and furious with lots of horn music in the background. Blake mixed swing dancing with something that she’d never seen or done before. It took all her concentration to keep up with him, and when the song ended she was breathless.

  “Time for a sip of peach pie?” Blake asked.

  This whole business of settling down might not be so tough after all. He could withstand the temptations of the local women if he could have some time at Frankie’s occasionally. Allie had said she wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, so they could have good times with no strings attached. By spring he might be completely weaned away from his wild cowboy ways.

  When they’d finished their ribs and shots, the bar was full of people. They moved from their stools to dance in the corner where Deke ordered a round of beers. Prissy hugged up to a cowboy and pretty soon they disappeared back behind a beaded curtain as “When a Man Loves a Woman,” played on the jukebox.

  “You like this place?” Allie asked.

  Blake leaned close to her ear so she could hear him. “It’s different for sure and beats unpacking boxes. What about you?”

  “I’m glad I’m not here alone.” She smiled. “Is that Etta James again?”

  Blake nodded. “She’s singing ‘Damn Your Eyes.’ Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got gorgeous eyes?”

  “Not lately and certainly not anyone I would believe.”

  “Something’s Got a Hold on Me,” another Etta James tune, started as soon as the first one ended. Blake hugged Allie tightly to his chest and moved slowly around the floor.

  “Do I have a hold on you?” she asked.

  “Oh, honey, you don’t have a clue,” he teased.

  The music stopped and she hurried to the jukebox. She bent over it to see the song titles better and there was that cute little denim-covered butt just tempting him. His mouth went dry and his pulse jacked up a few notches. He laced his fingers together on top of the table to keep from taking a few steps forward and cupping her fine ass in his hands.

  He would not seduce Allie. Not even if he could already feel her body next to his, under him, working with him, and satisfying the ache behind his zipper. He was trying hard to make her his friend and that did not include benefits. She was an important part of his strategy to get past his wild reputation. He really, really needed for the folks in Dry Creek to see him as a responsible rancher, not a bar-hopping cowboy with nothing but a good time on his mind. No one in Muenster would take him seriously, and that had always bothered him.

  The jukebox spit out “Lean on Me.” Was she telling him something? She returned to her chair and smiled. “I remember some of these songs from when I was…” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Granny had some of these on vinyl. I wonder if she was ever here?”

  Blake smiled. “Darlin’, your granny has lots of secrets.”

  At midnight Deke handed Allie the keys to his truck and said, “Place closes at two. Frankie says y’all can stay long as you want. Leave the keys on the front seat, Blake. I’ve got a lady who says she can make a mean breakfast come daylight.” He grinned and disappeared in a fog of smoke.

  “One more dance?” Blake asked.

  Allie stood up and moved out to the middle of the empty floor as Sam Cooke sang “Bring It on Home to Me.” She wrapped her arms around Blake’s neck and smiled up at him. “It’s not hard to imagine my granny in her best dress out here on this very floor dancin’ with my grandpa to this song.”

  “Who says she came here with your grandpa? Maybe it was with Walter,” he teased.

  “I don’t want to think about that.” She leaned back and looked up at him.

  She’d said no more kisses but those dark brown eyes mesmerized him. He tipped up her chin and whispered, “Then let’s think about this.”

  His lips closed over hers and his arms pulled her tighter against his chest, his tongue finding its way inside her mouth, tasting the peach pie moonshine. Finally, she put her hands on his chest and pushed.

  “Blake, I told you about that,” she said.

  Her tone wasn’t very convincing so he brushed another kiss across her lips. “I was just seeing if the peach pie tasted better on your lips than it did straight from the glass.”

  “Have you always been a charmer?” she asked with a smile.

  “I can’t help it when I’m around you. You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are or how you affect a man, do you, darlin’?”

  “On that note, I think it’s time for you to take me home.” She blushed, shrugged, and threw up her palms all at once. It was so damn cute he wanted to kiss her again. “I mean, take me to my home, so don’t look at me like that.”

  The dance ended and he led her out to the truck. He wished the whole way back through the rutted road and to the county road leading home that she was sitting as close to him as she had been on the way to Frankie’s, and cussing himself for wanting her for more than a friend.

  Chapter Nine

  Blake opened the door before she even knocked that Saturday afternoon. “Come right in out of the cold. Man, I’m glad y’all got the roof done. I believe the weatherman just might be right and we’ll get that six inches of snow on Sunday.�
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  “I won’t take long. Just a few measurements and then I’ve got to get to Wichita Falls for supplies before the weather hits.” She pulled a steel tape measure from one of the pockets on her cargo pants and headed down the hall.

  Deke pushed in the back door without knocking and yelled. “Hey, Blake, do you mind if I use your chainsaw sharpener?”

  “You sure can. I didn’t think you’d be around today after last night.”

  “I’m energized and ready to work,” Deke said. “I’m filling my travel mug with coffee. Once that snow gets here, the wood-cuttin’ business will have to wait.”

  “Sharpener is in the barn,” Blake said. “There’s spaghetti sauce made from venison simmering in the slow cooker. One of the ladies brought it by when they delivered all that food. We’ll have it for supper tonight? Y’all want to join me?”

  “Sure, maybe we’ll go back to Frankie’s,” Deke yelled, and the back door slammed.

  “How about you?”

  “How about me what?” Allie asked.

  “You got a problem with venison?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she’d eat anything he served but she’d prefer to do it in bed, after sex, and before the next round of sex. But she bit her lip and shook her head. “No, I don’t mind it at all. Daddy hunted every year so I was raised on wild game. I also like fried rabbit and frog legs, but I don’t like squirrel fixed any way. It’s just a rat with a fluffy tail to me.”

  She took a step, tangled her foot on a wrinkle in the carpet, and plunged forward into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “Okay, which room first?”

  “My bedroom and excuse the mess. I’m still not unpacked.”

  “I’m not here to judge your housekeeping, Blake.” She set about measuring the room and then pulled a notepad from her pocket to write down the measurements. “Color? And will it be for the whole house or different for every room?”