The Cinderella Hoedown

by Sable Sylvan

  “Well, I have one question,” said Will. “Why aren’t you at the hoedown?”

  “Shit, that is today, isn’t it?” asked Tom.

  “Yeah, it is,” said Kelly. “My volunteer work was all stuff that I got finished up over the last week. I’m not signed up to work at the actual event like Savina.”

  “But don’t you want to see your paintings be appreciated by the town?” asked Tom.

  “It was more important for me to come here and apologize to you three,” said Kelly. “I don’t regret skipping the hoedown for that.”

  “Kelly…today, we’ve solved a lot of our problems,” said Jeff. “The hoedown’s only just started. We can still make it and have fun.”

  “Really?” asked Kelly. “You three would be willing to go to the hoedown with me? All of us, together?”

  “Of course we want to go with you,” said Will.

  “It’s not too dorky?” asked Kelly.

  “If it’s important to you, it’s important to us,” insisted Jeff.

  “Plus, I heard your stomach growling,” said Will. “Don’t try and tell me you aren’t hankerin’ for some deep fried fair food, girly.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you three a shot,” said Kelly. “I’m willing to commit to taking this public…if today goes well. I’ll have my answer for y’all after the hoedown. If it doesn’t go well, then, I’m not about to give up on this again. We’ll just have to take things back to the drawing board.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Driving into town with three big, burly cowboys stuffed into her tiny four-door sedan to go on a giant group date was a first for Kelly Dean. As soon as they got to the hoedown, it seemed like the fighting was going to begin. All three of her bears argued about who should pay for the hoedown tickets, each wanting to cover Kelly, so Kelly ended up buying all four tickets…but the attempts to impress Kelly didn’t stop there.

  Once they were at the fair, they made a beeline for the food court. Planning to eat later, they all got corn dogs, but each wanted to share a soda with Kelly until she decided everyone should share one big soda…then, they were fine with having separate drinks. As soon as they hit the fair games section, each of the guys wanted to try and win her a prize…until she reminded them that they’d need to carry those prizes around for her all day. When they got to the section with free games of cornhole and horseshoes, the guys’ attitudes switched. Instead of competing to impress Kelly, they competed against each other, just like they would back on the dude ranch. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than them all trying too hard to impress her.

  While the guys played games, Kelly got them all some frozen lemonade from a small stand reading ‘Daisy’s Place: Authentic Port Jameson Goods.’

  “Hey,” said Kelly, approaching the stand. The cashier, a curvy gal like Kelly wearing a gingham sundress and sunglasses, turned to face her.

  “Hey,” said the cashier. “Can I help you?”

  “Can I get four frozen lemonades, please?” asked Kelly.

  “Of course, dollface,” said the cashier. “You want any Marionberries on that, sugar?”

  “Marionberries?” asked Kelly.

  “They’re like blackberries but much, much better,” said the cashier. “Here. Try.” She passed Kelly a cup of rich, sweet berries.

  “These are good,” said Kelly, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Berries on all four, please.”

  “You got it,” said the cashier. “Wylie! Liam! Bill! I need a hand here…a hand or three.”

  “Hey, babe,” said a tall man, smooching the cashier on the cheek. “Frozen lemonade?”

  “With extra berries,” said the cashier.

  Another man came up…and he also kissed the cashier on the cheek!

  “Extra berry frozen lemonade?” he asked.

  “You got it,” said the cashier.

  The last man came up and this time when he kissed the cashier, Kelly wasn’t shocked. She was curious.

  “Extra berries,” said the cashier to the man.

  “I’m sorry to pry, but…are you in a ménage?” asked Kelly.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” joked the cashier. “Yes. I’ve got three bear shifters of my own…just like you do.”

  “Just like me? Oh gosh, is it that obvious?” asked Kelly.

  “You and I are both Texas gals. You know how word travels ‘round these parts,” said the cashier. “We’re in from out of town, here for the hoedown and the county fair circuit.”

  “Whereabouts y’all from?” asked Kelly.

  “Read the sign,” said the cashier.

  “Oh…Port Jameson,” said Kelly. “And I’m also guessing you’re Daisy?”

  “If the name tag doesn’t make that obvious, I don’t know what does,” said Daisy. “Daisy Craston, at your service. Those three grizzlies of mine can get more than a little gruff, but I’ve whipped them into shape.”

  “How so?” asked Kelly.

  “They knew they wanted a ménage before they met me,” said Daisy. “Because…”

  “Because their mate marks matched?” asked Kelly.

  “And they were best friends who all realized at the same time that they had the same mate mark,” said Daisy. “But ménage life was bumpy at first, even though they all knew they wanted to share from the start. It got better, but not without a little elbow grease.”

  “Mine didn’t realize they were meant to be in a ménage until, well…a few hours ago,” said Kelly sheepishly.

  “Ouch,” said Daisy. “Look. I’m not in town for long, and I don’t want to cut into your first date, but…take my number, my personal number.” Daisy used a pen to scrawl her number down on a napkin and gave it to Kelly.

  “What’s this for?” asked Kelly.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” asked Daisy. “You’ve got to learn to handle a ménage like a pro. By this time next year, I want you to call me and let me know how you’ve managed to use a chore wheel to handle your guys. I want you using a shared online calendar to schedule dates, but also, ménage meets. Yes, that means all four of you need to be hanging out, ideally, at least once a week, because whether or not y’all realize it…you’re a family. I want you to be as confident in this relationship you’ve now got as you are confident in those curves of yours. You got it?”

  “Got it, Daisy,” said Kelly. She pocketed the number, and once the four frozen lemonades were ready, she carried them to her fated mates.

  As the sun set over Fallowedirt, the unlikely quad squad sat at a picnic table covered in loads of food, everyone eating from the shared banquet family style.

  “So, you said you’d have your answer by the end of the hoedown,” said Jeff.

  “You make your decision yet, girly?” asked Tom. “Did we show you that a leopard can change his spots?”

  “That metaphor doesn’t work with bears because we don’t have a pattern, smart one,” said Will.

  “It’s called a metaphor, and it’s not meant to be literal, you know, like the dichotomy between the literal and the metaphorical, smart one,” said Tom.

  “Mm-hmm,” said Kelly, her mouth full of fried chicken, shooting the guys a look.

  “And?” asked Jeff.

  “And…I wanted today to be perfect,” said Kelly. “And…it wasn’t.”

  “It wasn’t?” asked Jeff.

  “No, it wasn’t,” said Kelly. “There were times today that we butted heads. Times that we didn’t get along. Times that we nearly fought, in public, in front of people we knew.”

  “And so we blew it?” asked Will, softly.

  “No,” said Kelly. “We proved we’re willing to try to make this work. And that’s all I ever really wanted. Look, do you know why I brought you guys those pies?”

  “No,” admitted Tom.

  “I…did what you three did,” said Kelly. “I called Grandma Quiggly.”

  “And?” asked Jeff.

  “And she told me to call my own grandma and ask for her not-so-famous apple pie recipe,” s
aid Kelly. “Of course, she told me that after taking my fifty bucks.”

  “Okay…?” prompted Will.

  “And so I called my grandma, Grandma Dean,” said Kelly. “She got out the recipe for her apple pie for me. She lives in Houston, with my grandpa, and they have a strong marriage, one of the strongest I’ve ever seen…and it’s not perfect.”

  “It’s not?” asked Will.

  “No,” admitted Kelly. “It’s not. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I don’t think my grandma saw spending her twilight years taking care of a man she loved who’d regressed to the point of childhood…with dementia starting at the age of sixty.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Tom. “I know that can be rough.”

  “Yeah,” said Kelly. “It can be rough. But love? Love’s not always perfect. Love’s rough. And love, it’s not a feeling. It’s a commitment. Love is getting up every day and committing to trying, and to trying the day after that, just as you have the day before. There are days where it’s not perfect, but as long as you tried, as long as you loved, you did all you could do. The best you can do is the best you can do.”

  Kelly took a breath and looked to the three alpha male shifters who had, over the course of the day, butted heads, but most importantly, stayed together, by her side, before she continued her story. “My grandma says she wouldn’t change her story for the world, and that just like her marriage, her recipe for apple pie, it’s not perfect. This pie, well, it’s never won prizes. It sure as heck isn’t simple, making that butter crust from scratch, slicing those apples by hand. It’s easier to buy a pie at the store, and who would be any the wiser? But that’s not what giving someone a homemade pie is about.”

  “So what is it about?” asked Will.

  “It’s about giving them more than just a pie. It’s about giving them a part of you to share, for them to put inside themselves and never ever be able to have taken away from them. You can’t uneat a pie, and you can’t unlove a person. Once you’ve loved them, even just once, you’ll have forever loved them. You may not love them in the future, but you can’t undo having loved them…and when you find someone who you’d bake a million fucking pies for, maybe that’s true love.”

  “Are you worried about that? About wasting your time, your pies?” asked Tom, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

  “No, I’m not,” said Kelly. “Because even if this doesn’t work out, even if in three months, we end up going our separate ways…I’ll know I did my best, and now, after today, I can trust you three to try your best. I can’t promise you that this road will be easy just because we’re fated mates. I can’t promise you that things will work out just because some mark glowed on y’all’s chests. All I can promise is that we’ll all try our hardest to make this work. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” said Jeff, Tom, and Will, altogether.

  “Great,” said Kelly, wiping a single womanly tear from her eye. “Then what the heck are we sitting around talking for? We’ve got some grub to chow down on before we do the one activity y’all are so insistent I do with y’all.”

  Kelly and her guys went to town on their food as the sun set from the sky and a thousand stars rose up above them, both the glistening stars in the sky and the silver flecked bulbs on strings above the part of the street that had been cleared to make room for a dance floor. As Kelly danced from partner to partner to partner, swapping between Jeff, Tom, and Will as naturally as apple pie is American, she couldn’t believe that after all the drama, finally, her Cinderella story had found itself not a happy ending, but a happy beginning.

  Epilogue

  Three Months Later

  Kelly was the last person to arrive at The Matchstick Grill, but she had no problem finding her party. After all, no other table had a set of three strapping cowboys waiting for a fourth to join them. There was only one problem with the picture: it looked like Tom and Will were engaged in an argument, the pair gesturing harshly at one another while Jeff played babysitter…not. Jeff was scrolling through content on his brick of a smartphone, the phone covered by a thick, ruggedized case. It was just like the phones Tom and Will had.

  Kelly walked over to the table and put her bag down on the floor.

  “Hey, Kelly,” said Jeff, putting his phone down. “Sorry. I got engrossed in that article you sent me, the one about female painters in the South in the Old West. Interesting stuff.”

  “At least you were engrossed in that, and not a fight,” said Kelly, glaring at Tom and Will.

  “You never said we couldn’t fight,” said Will, crossing his arms.

  Kelly and Jeff looked at each other, then at Tom and Will, and Kelly raised a brow.

  “Oh really?” asked Kelly. “You looking for a repeat of last season?”

  “You said we couldn’t fight about you,” said Will. “We’re fighting about business. Cowboy crap. Lasso techniques. This city slicker thinks that we should use ropes that contain hard wires for our lasso lessons, which everyone knows is a, stupid, and b, basically cheating…”

  “…And this one thinks that we should stay in the stone age,” said Tom, which earned him an elbow in the upper arm from Will.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? In that case, I don’t care,” said Kelly. “Fight away!”

  “It’s just something to do when you’re not around,” said Tom, jokingly elbowing Will. “You sure you want to have your bag on the ground?”

  “This old thing?” asked Kelly, lifting up her tote bag. The black tote bag was covered in splatters of bright paint.

  “Each day, you put a new coat of paint on that thing, Kell,” said Will.

  “It was brand-spankin’ new what, two months ago?” asked Tom. “You’re going to start going through bags like you go through shoes.”

  “Don’t remind me,” sighed Kelly. “For someone who isn’t much of a girly-girly…I go through shoes and bags like a pretty princess.”

  “Y’know, if you want new things, you don’t have to lose them. You just have to ask for them,” teased Tom.

  “Come on! You know I don’t lose my things on purpose…or wreck my things on purpose…or accidentally drop them in a bucket of paint on purpose…” started Kelly.

  “What was it this time?” asked Will.

  “My uh…my new marketing materials,” admitted Kelly. “I was painting the rest of the rooms in the house today. I know, it’s ironic that the only room I’m keeping that boring shade of beige is my studio. Today, I was painting the bathroom in periwinkle and seafood. I was reading the brochures, and the glossy paper slipped into the paints. I had to go back to the print shop and get another copy. I’m sure they thought I was trying to scam them for extra prints. It was so embarrassing!”

  “At least you’re finally at the stage where you’ve got marketing materials to muss up,” said Jeff. “That’s fantastic, sweetheart.”

  “It is,” admitted Kelly. “The studio is working out for me. I should have a bunch of paintings ready for the Christmas craft fair.”

  “So right now, is everything in your life exactly the way you want it?” asked Jeff.

  “It’s pretty perfect,” said Kelly. “I never thought that we’d all learn to get along together, that we could be one big unit…but these weekly dinners have helped me find myself, find my place. You three have been around for me, helping me with the studio, helping me with renovating my parents’ house, and I think I’m ready to take the next step.”

  “Which one?” asked Tom.

  “Moving in, of course!” said Kelly with a frown. “That’s the obvious next step. I know you three work on the ranch, but y’all get some days off and weekends off, so there’s no reason not to have y’all move into my house.”

  “I mean, there’s some other potential…’next steps’,” said Will.

  “At the dinner table, Will?” asked Kelly, looking over Will’s lap for a tell-tale tent.

  “I think what the boys are trying to say is, we have a surprise for you,” said Jeff.

&
nbsp; Jeff reached into the space between him and Tom and pulled out a large brown paper bag and passed it to Kelly.

  “What’s this?” asked Kelly.

  “Just open it,” said Jeff.

  Kelly opened the brown paper bag. Nestled in brown paper curls of string was a plain brown cardboard box tied up with blue and white baker’s twine, a posy of meadow flowers between the string and the box. She carefully undid the knot and pocketed the string for later, putting the posies on the table, and opened the box.

  Inside the box was the cowboy shoe she’d lost on her first date with Jeff, on her first date with a member of her trio of men, on her first ever date with a shifter.

  “I…I don’t understand,” said Kelly, confused.

  “I found the shoe you lost on your date with me,” said Jeff. “And of course, I got some help from Tom and Will. We all worked together to put together these gifts.”

  “Gifts, as in plural?” said Kelly. “You guys…it’s a special day, isn’t it?”

  “Every day with you is a special day,” said Tom.

  Will rolled his eyes. “It’s our three-month frikkin’ anniversary!”

  “I totally blanked!” said Kelly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to make it up to us later, puddin’,” teased Will.

  Tom passed Kelly another bag. This one was a glossy jade green with a gold handle. Inside was another shoebox. There was no frikkin’ way these guys had pulled it off, right? Kelly had no choice but to open the box and find out.

  There it was. The heel that she’d thought she’d lost forever, riding on Tom’s back during their date.

  “You managed to find this?” asked Kelly.

  “Not without a little help from these two fools,” said Tom.

  “Here, best for last,” said Will.

  It was a black bag. Inside, there was a plain black box, and inside that, the ratty sneaker she’d lost on her date with Will at the drive-in, on the night that they’d let their bears brawl. They’d come a long way since that night.

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Kelly, a tear in her eye. “It’s not about the shoes. It’s about…it’s about everything. Thank you guys, so, so much.”