Love Drunk Cowboy

by Carolyn Brown

  She parked as close to the front porch as she could, grabbed her suitcase from the backseat, and hurried but was still soaked by the time she was inside his trailer. She kicked off her high heels at the door and shed panty hose and clothing on the way to the bedroom. She unzipped the suitcase and took out a short pink silk kimono robe and wrapped it around her body.

  Food hadn’t been a top priority on her list when she left Tulsa but now it was. She opened the fridge door to find a plate with a big square of lasagna covered with plastic wrap. A note on the top said to microwave for three minutes, that there was salad in the Cool Whip container and cut-up strawberries for shortcake in the Parkay margarine container. Beer was cold but if she wanted a bottle of wine it was in the side pocket on the fridge door. It was signed, Rye (but Maddie sent all the food).

  She warmed the lasagna and ate the salad right out of the container. She’d opted for cold beer instead of wine and didn’t leave a teaspoon of the strawberries or the juice in the margarine bowl. She put the dishes in the dishwasher and looked out the window at the rain, which was coming down even harder. The phone rang and she jumped like she did when she was a child and got caught doing something she shouldn’t.

  Racing down the hall to her purse, she stubbed her toe and swore in a bright array of blinding colors. She flipped open the phone on the fifth ring just before it went to voice mail.

  “Hello!”

  “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

  Disappointment washed over her worse than the rainstorm had done when she’d dashed from the car to the house. “I ran from the kitchen. Left my phone in my purse on the bed. Got a catch in my side,” Austin said in short clipped sentences.

  “Just making sure you arrived safely. Is Romeo already there? Is that why you were in the bedroom?” Barbara’s voice was cold disapproval mixed with smoking anger.

  “His name is Rye. He’s at a rodeo in Wichita Falls. He’s riding a bull tonight. But he did leave me a wonderful supper of lasagna, salad, and fresh strawberries cut up and sugared for shortcake in the refrigerator and I’m sure he’ll be here to cook breakfast for me bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  “You’ll gain fifty pounds by the end of summer.”

  “Last time I checked they still made clothes in sizes with lots of Xs so I’m not real worried about it.”

  “Don’t be snippy with me. Verline’s mother was obese and you appear to have inherited her genes and attitude.”

  “You knew my great-grandmother? Everyone down here says I’m built like Granny. Tall and thin and can eat anything I want without gaining weight, but tell me about her mother.”

  “I met her one time right after your father and I married. There’s James at the door. I’ll see you on Sunday. Good night!” The line went dead.

  A flash of lightning brought rolling thunder. The clouds couldn’t be more than six inches from the roof to bring on such bright flashes or such rumbling thunder. She thought she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway so she took her hands away from the sides of her face. It was probably a couple of teenagers used to using the driveway for a parking place since no one had been home all week.

  The lights flickered and the electricity went out at the same time the next clap of thunder kissed the roof. She gasped when the front door opened and lightning lit up a man in a long denim duster standing between her and the door.

  “Austin,” Rye said softly as he threw the duster over the back of a chair.

  She met him in the middle of the floor in a clash of passion that lit up the room brighter than the lightning flashes. His hands were under the robe and touching. His lips were on hers, hungrily trying to make up for five days without her. “God, I missed you so bad,” he whispered as he carried her to the living room.

  She unsnapped his shirt and ran her hands over all his hard muscles, thinking that there was no way she could ever leave again.

  And that’s when Verline’s spirit interfered again! The phone rang and he groaned. No way was he answering that damned thing. She ignored it and threw her head back so he could kiss her neck. Delightful shivers danced up and down her spine.

  The answering machine picked up. “Rye, guess you’re still at the rodeo. I hope to hell there’s still a key under the flowerpot. I’m coming home from Duncan tonight and the weather is horrible. I’m staying in your guest room. I’m just now on the outskirts of Terral but I’m not driving all the way home in this mess,” Wil’s voice came through loud and clear. “Don’t wake me in the morning. I’ve been gone for three days and I’m sleeping until noon.”

  Rye groaned and picked Austin up like a bride, draped his duster over her body, and walked out the front door. By the time they were across the road and on her porch, they were both drenched but neither of them cared. There was plenty of heat from the passionate kisses they’d shared the whole distance.

  She leaned down slightly and opened the door. He kicked it shut with his boot heel and tossed the duster on the floor. She fumbled with his belt but finally figured out how to loosen it, unzipped his pants, and wiggled until she was facing him with her legs firmly around his. She shifted her weight until he was inside her. He took a step and braced her against the wall and kept his lips on hers, their tongues twisting together in passion, and a sudden fury of thrusts that ended entirely too soon.

  “Hot damn!” she mumbled. She’d never had sex anywhere but in a bed with the man on top. And it had never—not one time—brought about the kind of fire that still had her panting and wanting more.

  “Yeah!” he said and carried her still wrapped around his waist to the living room where he collapsed on the sofa with her still sitting in his lap.

  Until that moment she didn’t know that a man could moan with a deep Texas drawl and just how damn sexy it was. With his lips still hungrily tasting hers, he ran his palms from her chin, up across her cheeks, and tangled his hands in her hair.

  “You taste good and look beautiful,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t say a word with his lips planted firmly on hers in kisses still so hot that she thought she’d melt in nothing but a puddle of whining hormones at the toes of his wet cowboy boots. She leaned back and looked up and their eyes locked in a flash of lightning and their lips met again in a clash louder than the thunder.

  “Have I told you how much I missed you and how lovely you are in that robe?”

  “Have I told you how much I missed you and how sexy you are with raindrops in your hair and scruff on your face? I’ve never seen you unshaven. I want more than a fast up-against-the-wall session after not seeing you for five days.”

  “Oh, honey, we are just getting started.” He brought his lips to hers for another kiss. If the bulls got out tonight they could swim the river and join a herd of wild longhorns. If Kent called to tell him lightning had struck his house and it was burning to the ground, he’d tell him to call later. He untied the belt of the robe and circled her small waist with his hands. “Your skin is cool silk. When I touch you my brain goes to mush.”

  “I don’t even have a brain, just an aching desire for you to keep touching my body.” She shifted so that she could taste his neck and nibble on his earlobes. When she looked up his eyes were dreamy and scorching hot at the same time. She stretched enough to brush a kiss against each of his eyelids.

  Her touch, her lips, and her skin against his was satin sheets against rough old calloused hands. He had never taken a woman in such a fit of raw passion; never felt such a thing until he saw her standing there in a flash of lightning. He shifted his position and suddenly she was under him on the sofa and her robe was wide open. She jerked the tail of his shirt from his jeans and peeled it from his shoulders. It landed on a table full of knickknacks when she tossed it and she giggled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That bunch of animals won’t be watching.”

  This time his touch was as gentle as a feather on her skin, making her gasp and arch her back for more. How could
a cowboy’s hands be so soft and gentle, yet so demanding at the same time? He worked his way down to her breasts, touching and feeling and tasting. When he touched her inner thigh she opened up for him and gasped when he found erogenous places that had never been touched before. She grabbed his hair and pulled him back up for another kiss before she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. She flipped places with him and sat naked on his thighs as she removed his boots and peeled his jeans down from his hips and legs. They landed somewhere near the computer desk. She turned back around and stretched out on top of him.

  Her hands were ice, fire, and cool satin all at the same time when they touched his skin. When she tugged his jeans off and kissed each toe, desire shot through his body like an IV of pure Jack Daniels whiskey. As she worked her way up to his lips lightning kept giving him flashes of her long hair and blue eyes that had gone soft and sweet.

  When she was stretched on top of him, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled gently off the sofa onto the floor, pinning her beneath him. “This sofa is too narrow but there’s lots of floor.”

  His hands were on that sensitive part of her ribs, right under her breasts. Another place she didn’t realize could heat a woman up to the explosion stage. She arched her back against him and lost every sane thought. The delicious ache was back even though she’d just had mind-frying sex with him. There were no watermelons, no bulls, no oil companies, no parents, and no decisions. Just a red-hot fire that only Rye could put out.

  But Rye wasn’t in a hurry. He’d waited all week for that moment even though he’d figured it would be in his king-sized bed. He’d looked forward to playing all over her body. He nibbled on her earlobes, found the faint taste of coconut and pineapple on her breasts, made her shiver when he ran his tongue around her belly button, and slowly made his way downward.

  Austin thought every fiber in her body would go up in flames when he brought her right up to the edge of passion with nothing more than his lips and tongue. She ran her fingers through his hair and said his name so slow that it came out in five syllables. When she arched her back and tangled her fists in his hair he looked up with a wicked grin and started scattering kisses on her hot, sweaty body as he made his way back to her lips. After two kisses she flipped over on top of him. She put one hand behind her on his tense thigh and the other on his chest and settled him inside. Then she began a fast rhythm that would end too soon so he traded places with her and slowed the train down a few notches. When he heard her call out his name in a throaty southern growl, he gave into the desire and buried his face in her neck in a moan. He rolled to one side without letting her out of his arms.

  Lightning continued to illuminate the room in bright flashes and thunder growled but Austin only saw and felt afterglow settling around them like a halo. She reached up and pulled one of Granny’s quilts from the arm of the recliner and flipped it over them. She snuggled into his chest and shut her eyes.

  Rye’s heart and pulse still raced even after she snuggled up to his side. Nothing had prepared him for the feeling that lingered after sex was over. Nothing would ever be the same. He shut his eyes and dozed off with her in his arms.

  An hour later she awoke. “Hey, cowboy, it’s time to wake up and go home.”

  He opened one eye. “Why?”

  “Because this floor is hard as hell and because we’ve both got a ton of work to do tomorrow.”

  “Date tomorrow night? I’ve got a king-sized bed at my place.” He hated to leave but Wil would be full of questions if Rye awoke him after dawn.

  She kissed him on the shoulder. “Yes.”

  He stood and held his hand out to her. When she put her hand in his he pulled her up and kissed her before he scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward her bedroom without breaking the kisses.

  When they reached the bathroom she slung out an arm and grabbed the door frame. “Shower.”

  “Just you or both of us?”

  “Just me. If you get in the shower we won’t leave this house until Sunday.”

  He laughed. “Sounds fine to me.”

  “Me too, but…”

  “I like your butt just fine, and your boobs and your lips and your eyes.” He gently set her on the floor in front of the big claw-foot tub and brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “I’ll pick you up at six. Dinner, movies and…”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  She waited until she heard his boots crossing the floor before she started the shower. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and all the saints above, how in the hell was she ever going back to Tulsa after having sex with Rye O’Donnell?

  Chapter 14

  Austin looked down the furrows at the tiny plants turning the whole sandy field pale green. A sense of accomplishment filled her heart and brought a big smile to her face.

  “Just look at them. Aren’t they beautiful,” she said.

  “There will be lots of days between these first leaves and the final watermelon harvest but it looks good right now. There’ll be spraying, plowing, weeding, and lots of praying for rain to make them full and plump. All the snow they got in this area last winter helped so we’re looking for good things,” Felix said.

  “Snow is better than rain?” Austin asked.

  “Si! It puts the nitrogen into the soil.”

  She wanted to learn, wanted to be there when they cut the first melon from the vine and hauled the first load into town to the watermelon shed where the semis came and hauled them away to be sold in supermarkets everywhere. For the first time she understood why her grandmother had farmed until her dying day and why she wanted her son to love it like she did.

  “The boys and I will be working on the east end of the place today if you need us. Lobo is going to mow the yard this evening after work and Estefan has the vegetable garden looking very good. We’ll have green beans and little potatoes before long.”

  “Thank you, Felix,” Austin said.

  “We are grateful for work this year. We were worried that we wouldn’t find anything and our families would suffer for it.” He settled his straw hat on his head and left her standing at the end of the rows and rows of plants.

  Will they have work another year? Verline’s voice was back inside her head.

  Granny, I love it here but my career is in Tulsa, Austin answered.

  Verline didn’t answer but Austin had the distinct feeling that she was still there as she drove into Ryan to do the banking business and meet Molly and Greta for ice cream.

  “Sex. Two times! And ice cream all in twenty-four hours. Have I died and gone to heaven?” Austin talked to herself as she walked across the wide street from the bank to the drugstore.

  Not heaven, honey. Terral! Verline answered.

  “I didn’t figure you’d give up without a fight.”

  I’m not fighting with you. It’s your farm and your decision. Do with it what you want. But don’t come whining to me when you are sixty years old and hate sitting behind a desk when you could be up to your elbows in watermelon juice making your own wine. And when you could have Rye and a dozen grandkids by then.

  Austin darted the rest of the way across the street and pushed the door of the drugstore open. Molly and Greta both waved from the back.

  “We saved you a seat and they’ve got fresh strawberries so we ordered three sundaes with whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry on the top,” Greta said loudly.

  Austin pulled out a chair and was barely seated when the sundaes arrived. “How’d you girls know I’d be here?”

  “You can’t hide that bright red sports car,” Greta said.

  “We parked about the time you went in the bank,” Molly told her. “Now what’s this about Rye O’Donnell coming to see you real late last night?”

  Austin’s face felt as if someone had just pushed her into a bonfire. “What?”

  “Come on, honey, we’re talking Terral and Ryan. Together they might have a thousand people if they padded the census more than a little bit. We got gossips that would put th
em television soap operas to shame. ’Fess up. What happened? Did he miss you? Was that the reason you went back to Tulsa? Was the fire gettin’ too hot between you?” Molly fired questions more rapid than a machine gun spits out casings.

  “We saw you at the rattlesnake festival with him and it looked pretty serious,” Greta said.

  Molly pointed at the ice cream with her spoon. “Eat your ice cream ’fore it melts and figure out a way to tell us meddling old women to mind our own business while you cool off. You are blushing so bad it looks like your face is about to catch on fire. I betcha Greta could light a cigarette off the tip of your nose.”

  Greta laughed. “That blushin’ stuff must come from your mother’s side. I never saw Verline blush in her life, not even when she got pregnant and…”

  Molly slapped on the top of her hand with her spoon. “Shhh.”

  “Don’t shush her. What about when Granny got pregnant?” Austin asked.

  “Cat’s out of the bag now and it’s a helluva lot harder to put the damn thing back inside the bag than it is to let it out. We might as well go on and tell her. Besides, she’ll find the marriage license and her daddy’s birth certificate and figure it out herself,” Greta said.

  Austin shook her head but the notion didn’t fly out of her ears. “Granny was pregnant when she got married?”

  Greta nodded. “And Verline didn’t blush or fret about it, neither. She was eighteen and Orville was nineteen. Verline’s momma said that if she was the first one to get pregnant before she got married then we’d take her to the river and drown her right then. And if drowning her would guarantee no other young girl would mess around before they got a ring, then we’d toss her off the bridge in a burlap bag tied to a rock. But it had happened back before Jesus was ever born and would keep right on until the end of the world. Wasn’t the same story with Orville’s momma. She had a fit. Swore that Verline didn’t even know who the baby belonged to and wasn’t about to let Orville marry a cotton farmer’s daughter.”