The Cinderella Hoedown

by Sable Sylvan

  "I think you have the wrong table," said Olivia.

  "Excuse me?" asked the woman again. "You're obviously just trying to scomp my date, so, shoo. Bye. Go away."

  The man looked at the two women and winked at Olivia.

  "I'm sure you must be right," said the man, in a voice oozing with sarcasm. "Mind if I check your ticket?"

  "Ch-check my ticket?" stammered the woman. "I don't know where it is, but I know it had this table's number on it."

  "And what number would that be?" asked the man.

  It was at that point Olivia realized the man had hidden the table sign while the woman was distracted by Olivia.

  "Uhm…table number one, naturally, given you're the number one guy in this place," said the woman.

  "Here," said Olivia, passing the man her ticket. "Seven."

  "Oh, look, we match," said the man, pulling his ticket out. Both tickets had a seven on them, and that's when Olivia noticed the man's hands were different than hers. They had a mark on them in the shape of the letter U.

  "She stole my ticket!" bleated the other woman.

  "Ma'am, in Texas, I do believe possession is nine-tenths of the law, so why don't you get, now?" asked the man. "Let me save you the trouble and let you down easy: I don't have any interest in dating liars, but confident women who aren't afraid to call out bullshit? That's my type."

  "Is there a problem here?" asked Grandma Quiggly, approaching the table.

  "Yes, there is a problem. She stole my ticket!" said the strange woman.

  "Oh, is that so?" asked Grandma Quiggly. "Then why is Olivia at her assigned table, table seven?"

  "Her assigned table?" asked the woman.

  "What, you didn't think that I didn't write this stuff down, now, did you?" asked Grandma Quiggly, flashing her clipboard. "All names and numbers are listed here, and you, Beatrice Clark, are not listed as sitting at this table. You won't be sitting at any table tonight, though. If you had sat at your assigned table, table five, you would've had a chance with Mister Jackson here, but now, you'll need to leave…and you're not welcome back in the future, Miss Clark."

  Beatrice fumed at being reminded of her status as an unmarried woman. "You'll pay for this, Quiggly," said Beatrice. "I just wanted to date a nice horse shifter, instead of some fuckin' goat, and I get this shit." Beatrice grabbed her purse and leaving the restaurant without further ado.

  "I'll add some extra time to this round so you two can get acquainted properly," said Grandma Quiggly.

  "Now, where were we?" asked the man.

  "I think you were going to pull my chair out for me and ask my name," said Olivia.

  "That's right," said the man flirtatiously. He pulled the chair out for Olivia before taking his seat. "I'm Matthew, Matthew Jackson. You can call me Matt for short."

  "I'm Olivia, Olivia Larson, and you can call me Olivia for short," joked Olivia. "I'm a seamstress in town, and no, that doesn't mean I'll darn your jeans for free. What do you do, Matthew, when you're not busy playing white knight for damsels being distressed by other damsels?"

  "First off, I wouldn't exactly call Beatrice a 'damsel,' and secondly, I'm a cowboy," said Matthew. "And yes…I get that it's 'ironic' for a horse shifter to be a cowboy."

  "So what Beatrice said is true?" asked Olivia.

  "You don't spend much time 'round shifters, do you, Miss Olivia?" asked Matthew.

  "No, I don't," admitted Olivia sheepishly. "I don't know much about y'all."

  "Hey, it's a breath of fresh air," said Matthew. "Lots of girls like Beatrice chase after shifters because of the whole 'fated mate' thing, hoping to lock down a man quickly, but they don't get that, even though we've got an animal…we're still men at the end of the day. We're looking to be more than just someone's end game."

  "Isn't the joke usually that all men are animals?" joked Olivia. "Fated mates…that's a real thing?"

  "Real as the wind rushing through the prairie. Real as the feeling you get looking at the stars on a summer night," said Matthew. "Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not there."

  "And your shift is a horse?" asked Olivia. "Sorry, you already answered that. It's just hard for me to imagine you as a horse. Is that a faux pas? I'm putting my foot in my mouth, sorry."

  "Do me a favor…stop apologizing?" asked Matthew. "Here's Horse Shifter 101 in a nutshell. You see my hair?" Matthew flipped his ponytail forward.

  "Yeah," said Olivia. "It's gorgeous."

  "Thanks," said Matthew. "I got it for my birthday. Take after my mom. The color of a shifter's hair usually reflects the color of their shift's mane. Our facial hair and other body hair reflects our coat color." Matthew put his arm out, rolling his sleeve up so Olivia could see his forearm more clear. His muscular arms were covered with a tawny coat of hair that didn't match the hair on his head, eyebrows, or eyelashes.

  "So your shift is dirty blonde?" asked Olivia.

  Matthew laughed, and the sound made Olivia feel like she'd just had a cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows on a winter day, and just like that cocoa, it made her smile. "It's called 'buckskin'."

  "Sorry," said Olivia. "I mean…okay, cool. Buckskin."

  "You see the marks here?" asked Matthew, flipping a hand over on the table and taking Olivia's hand with the other hand. He extended her index finger and used it to trace lines around the U shape on his hands. If any other man had grabbed Olivia like that, Olivia would've flipped the table on them, but Matthew already made her feel like she was having dinner with an old friend, perhaps even an old boyfriend.

  "Yeah, they feel stiff," said Olivia. "What are they?"

  "They're the marks of my shift," said Matthew. "I'm a horse shifter, so they take the form of horse hooves."

  "The form of horse hooves?" asked Olivia. "I don't follow."

  "The shape is the shape of a horse hoof," explained Matthew. "The color is the same color as my shift's hooves."

  "It's not exactly shaped like a horseshoe," said Olivia.

  "You know horses don't naturally have horseshoes, right?" asked Matthew.

  "I barely know how to groom a horse," admitted Olivia. "Do horse shifters not need hooves?"

  "Horses need horseshoes because of wear and tear," said Matthew. "At the end of the day, horseshoes are just shoes...for horses. Horse hooves are made of keratin, like your nails, but thick. They get worn down when used on rough and hard surfaces, like a file wear down your nails, but, for horses that are wild and free, running on soft, loamy earth rather than pavement, that's not an issue. I shift a lot, but I work on the dude ranch, which doesn't have much rough terrain, and as a shifter, I heal fast…and that includes my hooves. You'll rarely find a shifter with horseshoes. Most will opt for horse boots instead, which are what they sound like: hoof covers for hooves."

  "Okay, that's pretty frikkin' awesome," said Olivia. "Do you like working on the dude ranch?"

  "It's great," said Matthew. "I don't know what else I'd do with my life. I'm at my happiest when I'm in my shift…but being here eating meat with a pretty girl, that's got to be a close second."

  "Me?" said Olivia. "Come on."

  "You're gorgeous, Olivia," said Matthew. "A curvy girl who isn't a shifter chaser? Sign me up for a second date."

  Before Olivia could answer, the bell rang out.

  "I'm serious about that second date," said Matthew and Olivia couldn't help but smile as she walked to the next table.

  The next table had a shifter, but he didn't seem to have had had a successful speed date. There wasn't a date to be found lingering around his table.

  "Hey," said Olivia, taking a seat across from the man who was hard at work eating a slice of steak. She gave him the once-over. He was cute, with chiseled, Aquiline features, but he was a messy eater. If she were being charitable, she'd admit he had a big appetite, and that was a good thing. If she were honest and open, she'd admit that the thought of licking up barbecue sauce and meat juice off of his broad, chiseled chest was more than a
little appealing.

  The man looked up and quickly swallowed. The man's shift stirred as the man took in the tapestry of perfection that the speed dating service had provided him. With more curves than an old Irish country road, hair pinned up and away from her face, revealing a visage that he could lose himself in, he felt something stirring in his loins, a primal lust for this woman that was unmistakably a sign that she was special.

  Olivia saw the man's eyes flash a teal blue and knew that it must be a trick of the light.

  "Cat got your tongue?" teased Olivia, as the man quickly swallowed down his meat. "Don't choke, now."

  "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting…this," said the man.

  "This?" asked Olivia, crossing her arms.

  "I meant, a date," said the man.

  "This is Fated Mate Speed Date," said Olivia.

  "Apparently, there was some mix-up, and a girl got kicked out, so they assigned my date to the man who she'd rejected without giving a chance," said the man. "I didn't think the service would send any ladies my way."

  "Oh, I know all about that," said Olivia. "She was trying to steal my spot at my assigned table, and she was super rude about it."

  "So you're the woman I have to thank," said the man.

  "Thank for what?" asked Olivia.

  "Thank for not exposing me to that horrible woman," said the man. "After all, if it weren't for your kerfuffle, she'd have sat across from me, and I would've been forced to make small-talk while eying your curves from across the room."

  "And who exactly is thanking me?" asked Olivia.

  "I'm sorry. I must've lost my manners when I lost my date," said the man. "I'm Rich."

  "You're rich?" asked Olivia. "You get straight to the point, don't you? Do I look that much like a gold digger?"

  "Sorry, I mean, I'm Richard Booth, Rich for short," said the man.

  "Olivia, Olivia Larson," said Olivia, as a waiter loaded her plate up with meat. "I'm a seamstress. And you are…?"

  "A cowboy," said Richard.

  "Of course you are," said Olivia.

  "And what's that supposed to mean?" asked Richard.

  "My last speed date was also a cowboy," said Olivia. "Are you also a horse shifter?"

  "Saw the hands, didn't you?" asked Richard, flashing his palms. "Or, did this luscious hair tip you off?" Richard undid his ponytail and let a flood of silky black hair run over his shoulders.

  "Great, let me guess, you work at the dude ranch?" asked Olivia, digging into her meat.

  "Bingo," said Richard. "Bunch of us came into town, made a night of it, and spoiler alert: the guy at the next table is also a cowboy, and also a horse shifter."

  "Way to kill the mystery," said Olivia. "I've heard of killing the mystery about yourself, but about your competitors? That takes balls."

  "I'm a horse shifter. My balls are frikkin' huge," said Richard.

  "I can't believe you just said that," said Olivia, sipping at the beer she'd carried from the last table.

  "What is it you do, Mistress Olivia?" asked Richard.

  "I'm nobody's 'Mistress,'" said Olivia.

  "Sorry, force of habit," said Richard. "I didn't mean it like that."

  "I'm a seamstress. Started learning to sew from my grandma when I was a kid, loved it, went to a technical college, and got accredited. I work out of my home and do a lot of odd jobs. Halloween tends to be my best season. I get a lot of business from moms who want a homemade costume they can pass off as being something they made themselves," said Olivia.

  "No way," said Richard. "You deal with that kind of stuff too? I deal with guys who want to take pics on a horse and claim they know how to ride…when it's all me figuring out that they mean they want me to gallop when they say trot and that kind of stuff. It doesn't take much skill to ride a horse shifter, but it takes a ton of patience to deal with the riders."

  "Okay, so you do get it," said Olivia. "These people are irritating, right?"

  "Entitled, wanting to take credit for stuff that they didn't do? I abso-fuckin'-lutely love'm," said Richard. "Without them, I'd have a lot less business, and I'm sure that goes double for you."

  "I never thought of it that way," said Olivia.

  "Trust me, there's a lot of things you may have never thought of," said Richard. "But, I'm sure I can introduce you to more mysterious delights that you'll enjoy."

  "You're lucky you're so handsome, or I'd have to slap you for talking to me like that," said Olivia. "After all, I am a lady."

  "Maybe I'd like being slapped," said Richard.

  "Why do I have a feeling you won't stop teasing me until I finally lose my cool and do it?" asked Olivia.

  "Because you're not wrong," said Richard.

  Before Olivia could inquire further as to what the heck Richard was talking about, the bell rang.

  "Bye-bye…Mistress Olivia," said Richard in a teasing voice.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. What was this guy on? As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted whatever the heck he was having, and his promise of introducing her to 'mysterious delights' was more than a little tempting. She'd have to mark him as someone she was interested in at the end of the night, even though she knew that playing his game was akin to playing with fire. Wasn't Olivia getting a little old to explore her pyromaniac side?

  Olivia moved on to her last table of the night. The man's long ponytail was ginger, straight but with body, and there seemed to be streaks of dirty blonde throughout his hair.

  The man looked at Olivia and felt his inner shift neigh. The stallion inside of him wanted him to test her, to see if they were truly a match…and the human side of the shifter had to agree. She had the exact type of body he'd never been able to resist. She had a body with a plushness and plumpness he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in during lovemaking and the cuddling after, although he'd never admit to the cuddling part. Her hair, pinned up, was hair he wanted to see sprawled over his pillows as she moaned his name allowed and he filled her with potent seed. She was any hot-blooded shifter's wet dream, and their wet dream, she'd need to remain, as he knew this was a woman he wanted to claim for his own.

  "Cowboy, horse shifter," said Olivia, as the handsome man got into his chair.

  "Excuse me?" said the man.

  "The man at the last table told me," said Olivia.

  "Sorry you had to be subjected to Richard," said the man. "I'm sure he was busy stuffing your ears with bullshit while you were trying to stuff your face with meat."

  "Do you have a problem with women with big appetites?" asked Olivia.

  "Quite the opposite problem," said the man. "I can't stand women who don't eat. The last two dates I've had have picked at their food and insisted on making awkward conversation."

  "You don't mind if we just sit here eating then, do you?" asked Olivia.

  "I thought you'd never suggest that," said the man.

  "I'll agree, under one condition," said Olivia.

  "Anything," said the man. "My body is yours."

  "Now you sound like Richard," said Olivia. "I think I deserve to know the name of the dining companion who doesn't want to make conversation."

  "I'm Jason, Jason West," said the horse shifter.

  "Olivia, Olivia Larson," said Olivia. "Jason…you probably get this a lot, but, shouldn't you be a yellow ram shifter?"

  "Why?" asked Jason.

  "Because of the story of Jason…and the golden fleece," teased Olivia.

  "Ugh, really?" asked Jason. "Right after I extended you an Olivia-branch? See, Classics themed puns are no fun and affect nine out of ten Americans every year."

  "Ha-ha," said Olivia sarcastically. "Let's just eat."

  The waiters came by their table and loaded them up with stacks of meat. Olivia asked one of the waiters for a particular dish from the kitchen, and within a few minutes, a plate of grilled pineapple appeared on the table.

  "Fruit? At a meat buffet?" asked Jason.

  "Trust me, I know it's weird, but…try a bit of the
pineapple with your meat," said Olivia. Olivia cut herself a slice of pineapple and layered it on a piece of bacon wrapped filet mignon before popping it into her mouth and washing it down with a beer. Jason followed suit.

  "It just makes the meat fruity," said Jason.

  "Try this new thing called 'chewing,'" said Olivia. "Chew the pineapple with the meat."

  Jason tried again, and this time, his mouth filled with tropical fruit juice that, with each chew, tenderized the meat, making it softer.

  "Okay, that's freaky but amazing," said Jason. "What the Hell?"

  "My friend Cayenne taught me that trick," said Olivia. "The enzymes in the pineapple soften up the meat and make it taste and feel even better. She owns this restaurant. Well, she runs it. There's some weird financial paperwork in the background."

  "That's a pretty cool connection to have," said Jason.

  "She's my best friend," said Olivia. "Has been since at least high school. We didn't know each other well before. She's super ambitious, and I thought she was stuck up, but she's anything but. She's one of the people working on making the Fallowedirt Rodeo a success."

  "The rodeo's in town?" asked Jason.

  "Not exactly," said Olivia. "She's setting up a rodeo to raise money for the local library. It's one of the community projects that's raising money for community services and buildings this summer. Every dollar raised will be matched dollar for dollar by the Scoville family, those polar bear billionaires that moved into the area once they found their mates in the five Quincy sisters."

  "You sure know a lot about this rodeo," said Jason.

  "I'm volunteering there," said Olivia. "I'm helping Cayenne out by making costumes and outfits for some of the riders and competitors. I'm also helping design the merchandise being sold to raise even more money. Having a brand new library will be such a gift to the community."

  "How so?" asked Jason.

  "Are you kidding? The real question is, how won't it help?" asked Olivia. "Kids can go there and read books. Adults can meet up and do activities in the meeting rooms. There'll be computers people can use to find jobs. There'll be classes, plus, summer programs that keep teens out of trouble during the summers. It's going to be a boon to the community."