The coffee was dripping into the pot by the time she was scooping corn bread into a glass baking dish. Sliding it into the oven, she gauged her time and hoped it would be ready before Dylan headed out to do whatever chore he had to tackle next.
The room was noticeably lighter by the time he walked in the back door. “Hello, darlin’.”
She handed him a mug and nodded to the stovetop. “There’s hot corn bread if you want a slice.”
His gaze locked with hers. “I love corn bread.”
She grinned up at him. “Mmmm… I know.”
He set his mug on the countertop and wrapped her in his arms. “Have I told you how much it means to me to see you here at the Circle G?”
He had, but she hadn’t a clue why. “Yeah, but why—”
He tilted her head back and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “Garahans have owned the Circle G for over one hundred and fifty years. We’ve fought Indians, drought, and survived more than one range war. We’re a part of this land: worked it, lived on it, and are buried in it.”
“I thought that was just a figure of speech.”
“No, ma’am. I can show you the graves later.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. “It’s sharing what’s part of me with you, and seeing the way you just fit in here, that warms my heart and feeds my soul.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t bother to blink them away. She needed Dylan to know how much his words meant to her. “There’s this feeling I get being here, even when you’re not in the room, it’s like I’m where I belong… I’m home.”
He captured her lips in a soul-searing kiss. When he drew back from her and leaned her against the counter, he was grinning. “No, don’t distract me, woman. I need a hunk of that corn bread and have to get on to the next chore on my list or I’ll never have the chance to drive out to your place later today and finish up priming the drywall or putting up the shelves.”
She placed a hand to her lips and sighed. “I guess I’ll hang around, unless I can borrow your truck.”
He bit off a piece of corn bread and groaned. “Almost as good as my grandma’s.”
She paused with her cup partway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”
He chewed and swallowed. “Darlin’, ain’t nobody who can top my grandma’s corn bread, but this is so close it’s almost heaven.”
“Hmmpf.” Mollified, she waved at him to get him to move away from the counter. “I need to put plastic wrap on it, or it’ll be hard by the time you come in for lunch.”
“Hang on a sec.” Dylan cut out a huge chunk, pulled off two sheets of paper towel, wrapped it up and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks. This’ll hold me until lunch.”
He stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “You plannin’ on takin’ my truck again?”
She smiled. “Well, that all depends.”
Dylan waited. Finally, she shook her head. “I’ll be here for a while. We’re having lasagna, roasted garlic with Italian bread, and a nice salad.”
His eyes glittered. “With the same sauce you made the other day?”
“Maybe, but not if you don’t give me some space so I can start cooking. That sauce has to simmer for a couple of hours.”
“Can you make a double batch?”
“For you, darlin’,” she drawled, “anything.”
His eyes darkened as he drew in a ragged breath. “Don’t be temptin’ me when I’ve got to concentrate on my chores.”
Her lips twitched, but she fought the urge to smile. “See you later.”
He nodded. “If you want to practice barrel riding later, we’ve got a couple of real good cutting horses.”
He was on the back porch when she called out, “Can I ride Wildfire?”
“He doesn’t take to other riders.”
“But what if he does?”
“I’ll be riding him out by the North pasture after lunch, but you can pick any one of the other horses.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll wander on over to the corral after I’m finished in here and see who wants to let me ride them.”
“Now you’re talking like a woman who’s been living on a ranch all her life.”
She was still smiling when she heard the sound of hoofbeats as he and Wildfire rode off. Looking around the kitchen she sighed. “This is about as far as I could get from suburban living in Jersey.”
Wiping down the countertops, she started gathering what she’d need to create Nonni’s red sauce. The familiar scent of garlic and onions sautéing in olive oil soothed her. By the time she had the sauce simmering on the back burner, she checked the clock. “Just enough time to grab a quick shower before those wild-eyed Texas boys invade my kitchen—”
She had to hang on to the back of a chair to steady herself. “It’s not my kitchen.”
The thought that it could be had a feeling of déjà vu washing over her.
“OK, let’s not go crazy here. I’m in a relationship with a volatile, scrumptious cowboy, who busted down the walls I built around my heart after my ex stomped all over it. That doesn’t mean it’s time to break out the orange blossoms, white lace, and rice.”
Unless you love him. Her brain was working overtime as her head listened to what her heart had been trying to tell her. “I really do love him.” Drawing in one deep cleansing breath and then another centered her. She let go of the chair and walked upstairs to take a hot shower.
Her cell phone was ringing when she walked into the bedroom. Keeping her towel from slipping with one hand, she answered it.
“I was just about to leave you a message.”
“Sorry, I just got out of the shower.”
“Really?” Mavis asked. “Do tell.”
Ronnie laughed. “What’s up?”
“Are you free this afternoon?”
Ronnie smiled. “I could be. What do you need?”
“I’ve called a few friends and they can’t wait for the lingerie party. Can you meet me at the Lucky Star?”
“I was going to spend part of this afternoon practicing my barrel riding. It’s been a while.”
“Maybe you could squeeze in two hours in town,” Mavis suggested. “Say from two o’clock until four?”
Ronnie thought about it. The potential for more sales and new customers outweighed the need to practice what she knew would come back in a heartbeat. Barrel riding was a lot like riding a bike—you never forgot how, and if the horse was as good as Dylan said he was, it would be a lot easier. Barrel riding was a combined effort: your talent and skill added to your horse’s.
“I’ll let Dylan know I’ll be at the Lucky Star for a while this afternoon. See you later.”
As she hung up, she realized that her box of lace-covered confections and perfumes was at her shop in town. “Damn. I’ve got to go through it and see what I have and what I can download from my website to use as flyers in case anyone wants to place an order.”
After she got dressed, she went to check on her red sauce. The spicy aroma wafted toward her as she walked into the kitchen, welcoming her. “Let’s see if it tastes as good as it smells.”
Dipping the spoon in the sauce, she touched the tip of her tongue to it—perfect temperature—and tasted it. “Hmmm… needs a dash more salt.” After sprinkling some in the pot, she stirred and then tested the sauce again. “Mmmm… perfect.”
Ronnie was adding the top layer to the lasagna when Tyler walked into the kitchen.
“Smells amazing in here.”
She ladled sauce on the noodles then added a few handfuls of shredded mozzarella. “Tastes better.”
He nodded. “Any chance of getting that for lunch?”
Jesse walked in with Dylan, distracting Ronnie from answering. Her gaze sought Dylan’s. When he looked over at her, her insides got all gooey. The man definitely had a hold on her.
“Is that lunch?” he asked, pointing to the baking dish she lifted from the countertop.
“Dinner,” she said covering it with foil and placing
it in the fridge. “I wanted to make sub sandwiches, but you don’t have the right kind of rolls, so I made Dagwood sandwiches instead to go with the potato salad… I made both kinds.”
“What’s a sub sandwich?” Tyler asked.
She closed the fridge and looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re kidding, right?” He shook his head and started to reach for a sandwich. “Did you wash up?”
They all nodded. “At the pump outside,” Dylan answered for his brothers. “So what’s a sub aside from what the Navy uses underwater?”
She laughed. “Who would have thought the food would be so different out here? It’s a specialty back home in Jersey. You take a nice Italian roll, half the size of a regular loaf of bread, and layer it with salami, ham, cappicola, provolone, tomato, lettuce, onion, spices, and vinegar and oil.”
“Sounds good,” Tyler admitted.
“It goes great with a frosty glass of cola—”
“Or a longneck?” Jesse asked.
She nodded. “That too.”
“So why are we getting cartoon sandwiches?” Dylan asked.
She grinned up at him. “So you know what a Dagwood is?”
“Our grandfather was a Blondie fan.” He added, “He used to have one of us read from the funnies while he made us all Dagwood sandwiches. We still get a kick out of reading it in Sunday’s funnies.”
“My Nonni loves that comic strip.” She smiled and said, “When I get back from town, I’ll hopefully have the makings for subs for you guys.”
“You’re going to town?”
She nodded. “Mavis called. The ladies have arranged a get together with some of their friends over at the Lucky Star around two.”
“Girl stuff?” Dylan asked.
She tilted her head to one side and said, “I’m going to bring my lingerie and scented oils to show a few invited guests. Hopefully people will want to buy something silky or sweet-smelling. It’d help me keep my business afloat while you’re rebuilding my shop for me.”
The brothers looked at one another and Jesse shook his head. “I guess we’re not invited.”
Tyler scooped up some potato salad on his plate and pointed the serving spoon at the second bowl. “Women need to spend time together. Hey Ronnie, I recognize potatoes in there, but why doesn’t it have mayonnaise on it?”
“It’s German potato salad, made with vinegar, oil, onions, and parsley… no mayo or celery.”
Dylan picked up a fork and dove in. His surprise showed on his face. “It’s good… different,” he told his brothers, “but good.”
“Gee, thanks, Dylan.”
He smiled at her and nodded. “We’re pretty adaptable around here. Hey,” he said slowly, “any corn bread left?”
She laughed. “You took most of it with you this morning.”
Jesse pushed his way past his brother. “You made corn bread? How come I didn’t get any?”
Dylan reached out and hauled her into his arms. “’Cause she likes me better than you.”
Love for the man simply swamped her. From the way he was gazing down at her, she had a feeling he felt the same way too. His lips captured hers in a fiery kiss that liquefied her bones, reassuring her.
“If you’re not gonna share,” Jesse growled, “then cut it out.”
Dylan eased his hold on her, shifting her to fit against his side. “Sorry.”
“No,” the youngest Garahan grumbled, “you aren’t.”
Dylan’s sigh was long and just a bit patronizing. “Hell, when you’re right, you’re right.”
Jesse looked like he was ready to start swinging, and might have if Tyler hadn’t stepped in front of him. “Let’s eat. We’ve got more range to cover this afternoon before we can come back and have some of that lasagna.”
Having three men with healthy appetites to cook for was satisfying. She loved to cook and wondered if Emily didn’t.
“Does Emily ever cook for you?”
Tyler grinned. “She bakes the best brownies.”
She waited for him to continue. When he let it go at that, she finally asked, “So she doesn’t like to cook for you?”
Jesse snorted in response and Dylan chuckled. “She might if Tyler would let her out of the bedroom for more than just to go to work at the Lucky Star.”
Tyler grinned. “Woman’s smart,” he said looking over at Ronnie. “She knows her place is in my bed.”
“Well, really,” she grumbled. “That’s just simply medieval.”
Tyler was still smiling when he added, “Works for us.”
Her lips twitched as she fought the urge to smile. “Good to know.”
When the men had decimated the plate of sandwiches and three quarters of the salads, Tyler and Jesse thanked her and left. Dylan waited for them to leave before drawing her into his embrace. “I thought they’d never leave.”
She giggled. “They were hungry.”
He tipped her chin up, lined up their mouths, and swept her mind clean with a soul-searing kiss. Coming up for air, he rasped, “Me too.”
He kissed her again and asked, “Why can’t I get enough of you?”
Ronnie leaned against him. “I have no idea, but I’m not complaining, because I feel the same way.”
“Good to know,” he said, nipping at her lips. “I’ve got work.”
“OK,” she sighed, squeezing him in a bear hug. “I’ll see you at dinner time… Oh! Can I borrow your truck?”
His grin went straight to her heart. “You’re asking me this time?”
“Yep.”
He brushed the tips of his fingers along the line of her jaw. “You want to borrow the keys?”
She placed her hand on top of his where it rested on her face and sighed deeply. “I don’t need no stinkin’ keys.”
His laughter reassured her that he understood her reference to an old Humphrey Bogart film and she didn’t have to explain. “I’ll be back in time to warm up supper.”
“If you aren’t,” he warned, “I’ll come looking for you.”
She stepped back into the circle of his arms. “Promise?”
He dipped his head and captured her lips one last time, drawing everything she felt from the depths of her soul and filling it back up with his.
“Promise.”
Chapter 19
Mavis was waiting for her outside the Lucky Star. “Word’s spread about our little get-together this afternoon.”
Ronnie’s face lit up. “That’s really great news.”
The older woman shook her head. “Not if it involves the Rotary Club or the Women’s Club.”
Clutching her box tighter, Ronnie forged ahead; she’d hit roadblocks before and detoured around them successfully. This was just a minor bump in the road, not a full-fledged roadblock. “Instead of worrying about it, why don’t you tell me what happened while I set up inside.”
Mavis shook her head. “Later,” she said, opening the door to the club. Ronnie inhaled and was instantly at ease as the scent of fresh rain washed over her. Turning to Mavis she smiled. “I usually have incense burning in the back of my shop. Maybe I’ll have to rethink that and have the scent infused into my air conditioning and heating system like it is here.”
“It always smells wonderful in here,” her friend agreed, “and sets the tone for the evening ahead.”
“There’s a grocery store back home that uses cinnamon from about Halloween on through the holidays,” Ronnie said. “But on really warm fall days, it’s a bit much.”
“You’ve got some time to decide what scent you’d like to use,” Mavis assured her. “Will Dylan be finished with the repairs anytime soon?”
Ronnie paused on the threshold of the barroom and shook her head. “He’s got a full plate with the repairs at my place and the possibility of one or two other side jobs that he was telling me about the other day. Then there’s the never-ending list of chores to keep the Circle G running smoothly.”
Mavis hooked Ronnie’s arm with hers and gently tugged. “That ma
n works hard, but so do you. Let’s see if we can keep your business afloat with a few more sales.”
“Hey y’all,” Jolene greeted the women. “Are you two ready to party?”
Emily walked out of the downstairs kitchen with two trays laden with food, one with tiny delectable-looking sandwiches arranged like a tower, and the other filled with yummy-looking brownies. “Gwen’s bringing the pitchers of cold tea—one sweet and one with lemon.”
Ronnie grinned and set her box down. “You ladies are the best.” Her eyes teared up, but she blinked them away. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Jolene reached for the box and grinned. “Maybe you can give us a major discount on your collection of lacy teddies.”
“Done,” Ronnie agreed.
Gwen grinned and asked Jolene, “Is the big bad fire marshal partial to lace?”
Jolene’s grin said it all. “I thought it would be right neighborly,” she said, “if we all chipped in and bought something for Anne Marie and Janet.”
Gwen snickered. “Ronnie doesn’t carry what those women need in her store.”
Jolene tapped her chin and asked, “What about your online store? Do you have any toys?”
Ronnie laughed, imagining the looks on the two ladies’ faces when they opened their gifts. “My distributor would love if I’d add vibrators to my online store.”
Emily nudged her cousin. “Maybe we should go with something small; we wouldn’t want them to feel awkward that they don’t have something to give us in return.”
Moving over to stand beside Ronnie, Emily reached toward the rainbow-colored satin and lace spilling from the box. “May I?”
“Please,” Ronnie said. “In my store, I encourage my customers to touch. I have some fabulous satins and silk, but then, for those who prefer natural materials, I’ve got this cotton batiste that is to die for.”
Emily held up a swathe of black lace so tiny, she giggled. “What is the point?”
Ronnie held up another lacy thong in red. “If you have to ask—” Voices interrupted what Ronnie was going to say as a group of women walked into the barroom.
“Welcome ladies,” Jolene said motioning toward Ronnie. “Your hostess this afternoon is the owner of Guilty Pleasures. You all heard what happened to her shop. While Dylan’s rebuilding her shop, Ronnie’s going to be holding parties here at the Lucky Star.”
Dylan Page 27
