Ronnie hadn’t listened to her heart or her grandmother. She did everything she could to avoid the Murphy brothers after the oldest had told her best friend that he wanted to go out with Ronnie. But that had been high school and a long time ago. Ronnie was a firm believer that fate and destiny needed a push to make happen what you wanted to happen. You had total control, and she’d taken care of the curse when she’d married Anthony Faustino.
Too bad he’d lived up to the rumors she’d decided she could live with and had lived with—right up to and after their wedding day. She’d thought she could change the young Italian stallion that she’d married and could convince him to change his wandering ways. Nonni had been right about that too. The only person you have the power to change is yourself. Popping two slices of Italian bread in the toaster, she sat and waited for it to cook. Taking a tentative bite, she chewed slowly, not wanting to rush things and end up with a repeat of last night. By the time the first slice was gone, the tea water was ready.
“I hate tea.” But she knew coffee wouldn’t settle her stomach the same way tea always did. Grumbling, she scooped up a spoonful, blew across it, and sipped. “Yuck.”
By the time she’d eaten the second slice of bread, half of the tea was gone and her stomach and head felt as if they were in sync. “Better,” she sighed. “I’ll live.”
Her cell phone rang and she automatically reached for her purse, but it wasn’t inside. She got up and followed the sound to the bathroom and the haphazard pile of clothes under the sink. The memory of stripping out of her jeans led to another: being lassoed and reeled in by a gorgeous hunk of cowboy.
Dylan the Delicious had lips that should be licensed as lethal weapons. Ronnie shivered remembering the way he’d coaxed a response from her. Damn. She had to get her mind on the major task at hand; the carpenter was coming in a couple of hours and there was more cleaning up to do before the man would be able to find the wood he’d be repairing. By the time she uncovered her phone, she’d missed the call. “Great,” she mumbled. “Do not think about Dylan,” she warned herself, pocketing her phone.
Too late.
The man filled her thoughts and messed with her mind. Unable to concentrate, only able to think about one thing: broad shoulders and a thickly muscled chest that were part and parcel of one towering example of pure unadulterated Texas cowboy. She’d always been a sucker for a man with broad shoulders. Ronnie wished he were here. She’d take back her last words to him and beg him to come home with her. If she had, she wouldn’t have kept drinking and wouldn’t have been in such sad shape this morning.
“Yeah, I know, wishing doesn’t make it happen.” Her head began to throb. “Time for aspirin.”
A half hour later, her headache was under control and she’d donned a pair of yoga pants and her favorite T-shirt, one she’d stolen from her cousin Vito. It always shifted to one side and slid off her shoulder, but it was soft, roomy, and reminded her of home. Placing her phone on the bottom step so she wouldn’t miss any other calls, she surveyed the situation.
“Why did I move to Texas anyway?” she grumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear as she bent over to reach for yet another ruined bit of satin and lace. What was left of the teddy was soft and supple, guaranteed to catch a man’s eye and raise his blood pressure. The sudden thought that she’d like to raise Dylan’s blood pressure irritated her. “He’s not even here and the man’s messing with my mind.”
Focusing on cleaning, rather than what the mess used to be, was easier to deal with than the heartache of looking at the tattered remains of her fledgling business amidst chunks of wood, drywall, and glass—the result of what happens when some trigger-happy teenager with too much time on his hands goes on a rampage. Why else would someone she didn’t know just break in and destroy the contents of her store?
The devastation had been complete—her collection of heirloom fragrances and reproduction perfume bottles, her selection of design-your-own-fragrance massage oil—all of it had been crushed, mangled, or poured out onto the hardwood floor. If that hadn’t been enough, someone had broken in a second time and used a knife on her lingerie and a baseball bat on her walls, windows, and shelves.
Although she agreed with her friends and fellow female business owners that it was an act of boredom, she wondered about her collection of massage oils. A lot of towns didn’t want anything X-rated within their borders, not that massage oil could be considered X-rated—well at least it hadn’t been back home in New Jersey. But things were very different out here in Texas and she’d come up against a couple of narrow-minded individuals who’d rather strike the first verbal blow before even knowing what the facts were. Some towns wouldn’t think twice before denying an application for a business permit. The town of Pleasure hadn’t given her a hard time; the town clerk had written up the permit, stamped it, and handed it over with a smile, so she wondered if maybe one of those self-appointed do-gooders downtown had decided that her stock wasn’t fit to sell in their town. Just because some of the lingerie was a bit on the risqué side didn’t mean it had to be wrapped up in brown paper so no one would be offended by the see-through lace panels and teeny tiny thongs that were some of her best-selling items.
The break-ins and destruction of Guilty Pleasures had been a total shock and had ripped Ronnie’s world apart. Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t want to give in to them. DelVecchio women weren’t weak. She’d been accused of being stubborn, hardheaded, and loyal to the bone—but never weak. Too bad she hadn’t found a man who appreciated her best qualities… yet. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a man out there worth cultivating and convincing that she would be worth getting to know. She wasn’t a native of Texas, but she’d met quite a few of the local women and didn’t think she was that different from them.
Her cell phone buzzed across the bottom step, the only surface left intact… the staircase to her apartment… reminding her of the fact that not everyone she’d met since she came out to Pleasure had been honest with her. Someone out there resented the hell out of her. Finding out why would be the next step—right after she figured out who did the damage to her store. Ready for a break, she tossed the bits of satin and lace on top of the pile she’d begun and lunged for her phone.
“Hey, Ronnie. How’s the head?”
She grimaced. “How do you think?”
Her friend Shannon chuckled. “Maybe you should have stuck with your usual. José isn’t always friendly. He has he moments when he’s everybody’s friend, and then before you know it—”
“You wake up lying on the tile floor of your bathroom and can’t remember how you got there,” Ronnie finished for her.
“Oh hey, Ron,” Shannon said. “I didn’t know you would get sick. I thought you were just buzzed.”
Ronnie shrugged and tried to make light of one of the worst cases of overindulging that she’d ever had. “Not your fault. I didn’t have to keep drinking.”
“So what are you doing now that you’ve joined the quarter-century club?”
She snickered. “Sorting through what’s left of my shop.”
“Did Emily’s carpenter friend show up yet?”
Ronnie walked over to the front window and looked out from between the boards that she’d painstakingly nailed across the opening wondering which brother it would be. “He’s supposed to be here in an hour or so. I guess his day-job boss isn’t flexible, so he can’t get here until around seven o’clock.”
It was Shannon’s turn to snicker. “I hope it’s the middle brother. You deserve something good happening today. Need any help sorting?” her friend asked.
Ronnie looked around her and wanted to cry. “Nope. I’m good.”
“Call me later. I want to hear all about him.”
“You just want me to fill in the details, like how well his stellar butt muscles fill out his battered jeans.”
“That would definitely do for starters,” Shannon agreed. “Besides, I know you’re a sucker for a man wearing a
tool belt.”
“If he can fix what’s left of my shop, I’ll be forever grateful.”
“So you really accepted their deal to cook for them in exchange for the labor to do the repairs to your shop?”
Ronnie walked back over and sat down on the bottom step. “I’ll buy the materials and they supply the food. All I had to do was send over a fresh-baked pie and they’d agreed.” She paused and shook her head. “I just wish I could remember which brother is coming.” Tapping her finger to her bottom lip, she mused, “Now that I think of it, I don’t remember Emily mentioning his name.”
“Are you going to cook your awesome homemade lasagna crepes?”
“Absolutely.”
“With your Nonni’s red sauce?”
“That’s the plan, but do you think a bunch of boys from Texas will appreciate Italian food?” Ronnie wasn’t sure about that; most of the people she’d met seemed to eat barbecue beef, steak, and hamburgers.
“They’ll be convinced once they’ve tasted ambrosia.”
Ronnie laughed. “Nonni would love to hear her simple sauce referred to that way. I’ll have to tell her when I talk to her on Sunday.”
“There’s nothing simple about her pasta sauce.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes, Shannon,” Ronnie promised, remembering she didn’t have all of the ingredients she needed for the sauce. “I’ve got to pick up a few things before my cowboy carpenter gets here.” A shiver of anticipation shot through her. Rubbing her palms together, she realized she was about to drool. Time to get ahold of herself; she didn’t want to get all worked up if her carpenter was the wrong brother.
She ran upstairs and changed the yoga pants for a pair of worn-at-the-knees blue jeans she’d had for longer than she could remember. Mindful of the weather and wildlife she wasn’t yet used to, she pulled on socks and reached for a pair of work boots. Turning them upside down to check for critters first, she put them on. Two minutes later, she was upside down on the driver’s side of her cousin’s ancient blue Ford pickup, using the exposed ignition wires to start it. Vito’s generous offer to take his truck didn’t include the keys because he’d lost them a few years back and never replaced them… with his larcenous talents, he didn’t need keys.
“Come on,” she begged the truck. “I’m running on borrowed time and I need to get fresh garlic and onion for Nonni’s red sauce.”
The engine caught and roared to life. Shifting so she could wiggle out from under the steering column, Ronnie brushed her hair out of her eyes, grabbed ahold of the wheel, and put it in drive.
The good thing about living in a small town was that you didn’t have to drive too far to get whatever you needed. Dawson’s didn’t carry everything that she needed, but she’d been warned about the differences between East Coast living and the wide-open spaces out in Texas and had brought a bunch of her favorite spices with her. Even better, Nonni said she’d mailed a care package that should arrive any day. She couldn’t wait to see what her grandmother had sent.
“Hey there, Ronnie.”
“Mavis!” Ronnie turned to greet her friend. “Where were you last night?”
Mavis smiled. “I had things to do. I’m sure you had fun even though I wasn’t there, didn’t you?”
She wondered if she’d have ended up on her bathroom floor sick as a dog if Mavis had been with her. “Oh yeah, I had tons of fun.”
“You don’t sound like you mean that.” The older woman frowned.
“Let’s just say I didn’t use my head and got distracted by a hunk of cowboy the likes of which I’d never seen or knew existed.”
“And?” her friend prompted.
“He… um, asked me to…” Embarrassed, she couldn’t finish.
Mavis linked arms with Ronnie and started walking. “Sounds like you need someone to talk to.” She soothed, “Tell Auntie Mavis. I’m all ears.”
Ronnie sighed, knowing she’d feel better once she’d told Mavis. She trusted the older woman and usually heeded her advice. “Did you know Shannon and Lenore were going to have me blindfolded and lassoed?”
Her friend’s hoot of laughter wasn’t exactly the reaction she expected. When Mavis came up for air, Ronnie grumbled, “Then you weren’t in on it?”
“Only the lasso part. Damn. I wish I’d have thought of the blindfold. It must have done something to that poor boy, seeing you all helpless.” When Ronnie stopped in her tracks, Mavis tugged and got her walking and talking. “So was it Dylan?”
“How’d you know?”
“I have my sources.” Mavis preened. “Besides, I happen to know he and his brother—”
“Which brother is he?”
“Dylan’s the middle brother.”
Ronnie needed to know which one was the carpenter. “Then he’s the one who’s going to rebuild my shop?”
Mavis agreed and added, “They all have the Garahan dark good looks, but Tyler’s leaner than Dylan and they’re both shorter than Jesse. All of those boys have hidden talents and are good with their hands—as ranchers, they have to be.”
“All I know from last night is that they called him Dylan the Delicious.”
The soft smile had her suspecting that Mavis had known him for a long time. It was a look she’d seen more than once on Nonni’s face when talking about one of the neighborhood boys. Ronnie asked, “What do you know about him?”
“He’s honest and hardworking as the day is long. All of those boys are.” Mavis shook her head. “There was a time when we’d thought they’d spend their formative years doing hard time for Sheriff Wallace, but old Hank, their grandfather, had a way with words and the sheriff relented and let Hank set those boys on the right path.”
Ronnie wondered what had happened that the brothers had been headed toward the wrong side of the law, but wasn’t comfortable asking—just yet. When Mavis’s smile turned wistful, she knew there was a lot more to the story. Time would tell whether or not she’d be interested enough in Dylan to find out more.
To distract Mavis from her sad thoughts, Ronnie blurted out, “He kissed me.”
Mavis’s smile broadened and a spark of pure pleasure lit her eyes. “Did he? Tell me more.”
While she selected the fresh garlic and onions for her sauce, she filled Mavis in on the details of last night’s celebration. As she walked toward the checkout, Mavis asked, “And what did you do when he asked you to wait for him?”
“I told him no.”
Mavis patted the back of Ronnie’s hand. “Any reason, other than the obvious one, that he scared you?”
“I didn’t say he scared me.”
“Didn’t you?” Mavis asked. “Sometimes when love hits us between the eyes, we put up all of our defenses at once in order to protect our hearts.”
It was Ronnie’s turn to laugh. “I just met him last night. How could I love him?”
“Oh, honey,” Mavis said, hugging Ronnie. “You don’t always recognize the love bug when it bites you.”
“Well, I might have been interested, but—” She didn’t have to finish what she was thinking. One look at Mavis’s knowing smile told her the woman had already made up her mind about last night and the woman hadn’t even been there.
“How did it feel when he reeled you in and locked lips with you?”
“You weren’t there, how did you know?”
Mavis smiled and ignored her question. “So how was it? I’ve heard rumors that those boys are as wild as the wind, just like their daddy, God rest his soul.”
Ronnie’s heart did a little jig in her breast. Yet one more thing that she definitely would want to find out—if she decided she was interested in getting to know the man better. What happened to his father? The little sigh that escaped had Mavis tilting her head to one side. Ronnie admitted, “If I hadn’t had too much to drink, I may have taken him up on his offer. The man’s lips should be licensed as weapons of mass destruction.”
Her friend nodded. “Wiser to wait until your head was clear. It’s al
ways a mistake to mix alcohol with sex.”
Ronnie let out a snort of laughter. “Now you sound like my grandmother. Don’t hold back how you feel, Mavis.”
The older woman nodded. “Like I always say, there’s lovin’ and there’s lust. Not that there’s anything wrong with having a little bit of one or the other, but it’s best to have a clear head so you can tell them apart, so you don’t do anything you’d regret later.”
Ronnie looked up in time to see the wide-eyed look on the cashier’s face. She didn’t recognize the girl, but smiled. The poor thing was too embarrassed to return the greeting. Paying the cashier, Ronnie reached for her bag. “I’m afraid I’ll make another mistake like I did with my ex. I thought I knew what I was doing.”
“Dylan isn’t Anthony.”
“I didn’t say he was, but—”
“Sometimes you have to grab hold of life with both hands and enjoy the ride.”
Ronnie snorted. “I’m a former barrel rider—not a bronc rider. Did you know that there’s a famous rodeo in New Jersey? It’s a place called Cowtown in South Jersey. I’ve competed there.”
“Who’d have thought it?” Mavis said, walking with Ronnie out into the parking lot. “Now, dear, remember when the love bug bites—”
“It’s not love, damn it.”
“So you say,” Mavis said cheerily, waving as she got into her car.
“Sometimes she makes me crazy,” Ronnie grumbled getting into her truck. She hesitated and checked the parking lot to see if anyone was watching her. She used to worry that people would think she was stealing the truck when she started it from beneath the dashboard, but for some reason out here in Pleasure, people didn’t seem to think it was unusual.
A glance at her watch had her relaxing; she still had time for a ride to settle her nerves. She headed out of town and felt the tension leaving her by degrees as she left the town limits behind her. Five miles out of town her truck coughed and died.
Dylan Page 4
