The Cowboy's Mail Order Bride

by Carolyn Brown

“I’m glad you are home safe, but I’m still mad at you for not staying the night. I could use some company. The cows got out and Greg is fixing fence and my cats are asleep,” she said.

  She heard the sound of a cigarette lighter and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

  “And I’m glad I came on home, because if I was there, I’d be fixin’ fence with the men folks, not sittin’ in the living room talkin’ to you, darlin’. That’s what visitors do when there’s work that needs to be done. You know that. Good night,” he said.

  “You tell Dusty that you had dinner with me?” She hung on to the conversation.

  “No, I did not. I don’t want to listen to her cussin’.” He laughed. “I’m hanging up now.”

  The phone went completely silent and she sighed. Less than a minute later she heard a jingle and looked down at her phone. There was a text from Greg. Fence is fixed. We’re herding them in through a gate down the road. Be late getting home. See you tomorrow morning. Dinner in Sherman after church?

  She tapped in a message with her thumbs. Are you asking me on a date?

  Yes, came back instantly.

  I’d love to, she typed in.

  A smiley face icon appeared with one eye slid shut in a wink.

  ***

  The standard preacher’s sermon lasted half an hour and she really tried to listen. But with Greg’s whole body pressed up against hers in the short pew, the preacher could have been reading straight from Fifty Shades of Grey or one of the sequels.

  From what she’d heard and read about the book, she figured her mind was leaning a whole lot more toward the “Grey” book than it was toward the Good Book that morning. One good romp and a ten-minute quickie in the attic had set her hormones into a tailspin, and all she could think about was kissing Greg and his hands on her body.

  She was an adult, not a sophomore in high school, but that morning she did not get the message from the birth date on her driver’s license that she was a grown-up now or from Taylor, who’d reminded her quite emphatically and often that they were adults.

  Finally, the preacher wound down and looked out over the congregation.

  “Some of you may have heard the good news, but I’ll tell it again. Prissy Landers and Tommy Randolph were married this weekend in a private ceremony in Las Vegas. We all expected that when Prissy got married, it would be right here in her own church, but they didn’t want a bunch of fanfare, so they eloped. However, the ladies in the church are having a reception for them on Wednesday night at seven and everyone is invited. We’ll look for all y’all to be there. Clarice Adams is one of the hostesses, so if you have questions, call her. Now Everett Dempsey will please deliver the benediction.”

  Every head bowed and Everett’s big booming voice said “Our Father.” The preacher tiptoed down the aisle, his head bowed reverently. The old guy took a while, but when he finally said, “Amen,” the Lord had been thanked for everything from the day and the wonderful spiritual sermon to the green grass beginning to come up after the snow and the sunshine.

  “Praise the Lord,” Dotty mumbled next to her.

  Emily looked over her shoulder.

  Dotty said from the side of her mouth, “I thought we were going to starve plumb to death before he got his praying done. Remind me to never invite that man to supper. I hate cold mashed potatoes and gravy.”

  “Madge has invited us to have dinner with her,” Clarice said as they waited for the congested center aisle to clear out. “We’re going home with her and then she’ll drive us to the ranch later this afternoon. We’re going to talk about the final touches for the bazaar next week. Y’all want to come along?”

  Greg shook his head. “Emily and I have a date. We’re going over to Sherman and having a nice quiet dinner and maybe take in an afternoon movie.”

  Clarice raised both eyebrows halfway to heaven. “A date?”

  “Is it all right?” Emily asked.

  “Are you over twenty-one?”

  “Oh, stop the sh… sh… stuff, Clarice. You almost made me cuss right here in church. God… d… dang it! See there, I almost did it again. They’re grown. They can go get a hamburger and watch a movie without asking me or you,” Dotty said. “I swear cussin’ is even harder to give up than good Kentucky bourbon.”

  “I’m over twenty-one,” Emily answered.

  “Then I reckon you can date my grandson,” Clarice told her.

  Greg laced his fingers in Emily’s and led her toward the pulpit, through the choir entrance, and out the back door.

  “We’ll go to hell for sure if we don’t shake hands with the preacher.” She giggled.

  “By the time Nana and Dotty get to the front of the line, he won’t remember who all he shook hands with. How about Chinese for dinner?” He helped her inside the van and leaned across to fasten the seat belt for her.

  “How about takeout?” She kissed him on the cheek when he finished.

  He took time to really kiss her, gently, then deeper, and then with so much hunger that she could feel her whole insides starting to hum. “Takeout where?”

  “There’s a big backseat.” She tilted her head back. “Or a nice attic at home.”

  “Too many windows for the backseat. Too far to get back to the attic. But I know just the right place to take our Chinese takeout dinner. I looked forward to meeting you in the attic all day yesterday and felt cheated last night.”

  “Me too. And I didn’t have a letter under the door this morning,” she said.

  “Did Marvin and Nana write every day?”

  “Not at first.”

  “Have I told you that you look beautiful today? That dress is the same color as your eyes. What color underwear are you wearing?” His eyes glittered like stars in a midnight sky.

  “Who says I’m wearing any?”

  He groaned. “God, Emily! I’m glad I didn’t know that in church.”

  “They are blue and so is my bra.” She giggled. “And yours?”

  “None. I told you about going cowboy.”

  Her gasp was ever so slight, but he heard it and pointed a finger at her.

  “Gotcha!”

  The trip took less than twenty minutes and the takeout was ready in ten minutes. It smelled scrumptious in the backseat, but she wanted something else much more than she wanted food.

  “Where to now?” she asked.

  “See that sign right up there?”

  “The car dealership?”

  “No, the one beside it.” He pointed to the hotel sign.

  “Oh, yes, sir.”

  Signing in was a breeze. He carried the bag with their food and stopped at the vending machine room on the way and bought four Cokes.

  “Is that enough?” he asked.

  “Might have to come back. We could get very hot and thirsty,” she said.

  Flirting had never been so much fun.

  The room was at the far end of the hallway, and when they were inside, he set the food and drinks on the desk, turned around, and picked her up like a bag of chicken feed—butt up, head dangling down his back, giggles bouncing off the walls, dress flipped up to reveal two almost-naked, well-rounded cheeks with a string up the middle and the barest of silk at the top of the thong.

  He kissed the cheek closest to his lips before he tumbled her onto the big, soft king-sized bed and landed on top of her. “You’ve got a very kissable ass, Miss Emily Cooper.”

  “So glad you think so. I grew it just so you could kiss my ass.” She laughed.

  “Ah, you are a smart-ass.”

  “Make up your mind, cowboy. Is it kissable or smart?”

  He pulled off his glasses and laid them on the nightstand and rolled to one side, keeping her in his arms. Lying on the bed put them on the same playing field, but still she felt herself tiptoeing when his eyes shut and his lips found hers
in a scorching kiss that almost set the sprinklers in the ceiling into action.

  He carefully undid every tiny button down the front of her dress, laid it back, and kissed her bare tummy, moving downward until he reached the thong. He grabbed it with his teeth and removed it slowly down her legs to her ankles, over her toes, and tossed it over his shoulder without ever touching it with his fingers. Then he started back up, tasting and kissing until she was moaning and arching her back.

  She sat up, shimmied out of her dress and bra, and threw them at a chair, then pushed him back on the bed. Taking her time undressing him, she made sure he was panting every bit as hard as she was before she straddled his body and leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest hair.

  Damn! She meant to turn him on to the boiling point, but that soft chest hair was doing a number on her desire button. She was near to exploding when she found his lips. She tasted the last remnants of the morning coffee and caught a whiff of the aftershave that put her squarely in the middle of the hottest desire she’d ever known.

  He rolled with her and together they took their pleasure in each other’s bodies as if they’d die if they weren’t completely sated before the day ended. His mouth never left hers until they both cried out in a loud whisper at the same time, “Now. Right now.”

  Afterward he pulled the edge of the snowy white comforter up over them and kissed her eyelids. “There are no words. Amazing doesn’t even cover the way I feel when I’m with you. I feel complete and whole.”

  “Mmmm,” she said.

  Taylor might be right. Maybe she did ogle!

  ***

  Greg awoke in the middle of the afternoon to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. He rolled out of bed, padded naked and barefoot through the open door, and pulled back the shower curtain.

  “Water is nice. Dive right in.” She grinned.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said. “Could I wash your back, ma’am?”

  “And my front and anything else you want to touch, but not right now. If I don’t get food pretty soon, I’m going to wilt and pass on to the other side of eternity,” she said.

  “Chinese is cold by now, darlin’.”

  “I don’t care if it’s moldy. I’m going to eat it, drink two Cokes, and then we will get our money’s worth out of this room before we have to go home.”

  “You’ll wear me plumb out. I’m not a teenager.” He chuckled.

  “Couldn’t prove it by me.” She patted his bare butt and stepped out of the shower. “I’ll get the food out and the table set.”

  “I didn’t see a table,” he said.

  “Of course you didn’t, sweetheart. You are the table.”

  “You are not eating Chinese off my stomach,” he said.

  It was her turn to point and say, “Gotcha.”

  He grabbed at her, but she stepped to the side and wrapped a big white towel around her body, tucking the end in above her breasts.

  Even with water dripping off her, a hotel towel around her, and all her makeup gone, she was still gorgeous.

  Chapter 17

  The rain started on Monday morning with a clap of thunder that sent both kittens skittering under the nearest chair. It hit with wind and a force that blew it so hard against the kitchen windows that Emily thought there could be a tornado pushing it. But by the time breakfast was finished it had slowed to a gentle drizzle coming from solid gray skies.

  “I’m glad we’ve got a barn to get ready for the party,” Max said at breakfast. “We’d have cranky hired hands if they were all holed up in the bunkhouse with nothing to do. I’ll call Louis and tell him that we’ll meet them there in ten minutes.”

  “Want to come along?” Greg asked Emily.

  “No, she’s my assistant again today,” Clarice said.

  Greg pushed his coffee cup back. “You are going somewhere in this weather?”

  “We’re going to the office. Computer work is backing up. Emily is going to work on that,” Clarice answered.

  Dotty refilled her coffee mug. “Thank God! Clarice gets plumb bitchy when she has to poke numbers into that stupid machine all day. That computer shit ain’t for us old dogs to have to learn. That’s the reason I don’t want a new cook stove. New ones ain’t got nothin’ but fancy buttons. Give me five knobs any day of the week rather than a bunch of push buttons.”

  Emily would have far rather been in the barn as inputting data into the computer, but that was as big a part of ranching as cows, hay, and plowing. Work always came before play. Sometimes work was play; sometimes it was plain old work.

  “It will take her at least three days to get done. Then Thursday and Friday all of us bazaar ladies will decorate the barn and she’s going to help with that. She is my assistant all week. You’ve got lots and lots of help who can clean out a barn,” Clarice said.

  Emily picked up the kittens. “I’ll see y’all at dinnertime. The boys and I will be in the office if anyone needs any one of us.”

  ***

  Dotty slammed a dish towel down on the bar with enough force that it popped almost as loud as the thunder. She glared at Clarice until the woman finally threw up her hands and said, “What?”

  “You’ve gone and ruined it. Just when they were gettin’ on so good, you put her in that damned office for a week and send him to clean out a barn. How in the hell are they supposed to find any attic time or even thirty seconds to steal a kiss? What is the matter with you, Clarice Adams? Have you lost your damn mind?”

  Clarice smiled.

  “I’ll slap that grin right off your face and leave a big smear of lipstick all the way to your ear when I do it,” Dotty fumed.

  “Remember when you were a little girl and you played with your little friend all day on Saturday and then went home with her after church on Sunday?” Clarice asked.

  “What the hell has that got to do with anything?”

  “On Monday, what did you want to do?”

  “Play with my friend some more, but Momma wouldn’t let me.” Dotty clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “Because familiarity breeds contempt?” Clarice asked.

  “Words right out of her mouth; I swear you even sounded like her.”

  “They need some time apart to want to be together. They might not even realize it, but I do. It’s less than ten days until her vacation time is up. There’s just flat-out not time for them to spend any of it fighting. So they need to yearn for each other and want to be in each other’s arms so badly they can taste it.”

  Dotty nodded very slowly. “They will fight sometime. You know that, don’t you, Clarice? You and Lester fought. Me and my husband were professional at fighting, but oh, honey, the making up was so hot that the fights were worth it. Sometimes I started one on purpose just so we could have makeup sex.”

  Clarice giggled. “Any smart woman knows how to do that. They can fight, but only after she decides that she wants to stay on Lightning Ridge. When she sells Marvin’s ranch to Taylor she won’t have a place to run to when they have their first big one.”

  “Forgive me for doubting you.” Dotty held out her pinky finger and the two old ladies locked their fingers together, counted to three and let go, clapped three times, and then went back to work.

  ***

  Emily found a letter under her door on Tuesday. One short page talking about getting the barn cleaned out and how much he missed having her by his side. Even if he couldn’t hold her or make a quick trip to the attic, he liked knowing that she was close enough he could see her. It was a bigger job than they’d thought since they’d stored hay in it until the fall sale and would sure enough take every waking hour until Wednesday. Maybe they could meet on the steps or in the living room late tomorrow night, even if only for a few minutes to cuddle.

  The noise of a truck engine took her attention to the yard. There was Max and
Greg, wearing slickers the same color as the sky. Greg looked up at her window and blew a kiss her way and then he was gone. She didn’t even know if he realized she was looking out.

  After breakfast she went straight to the office. She found Simba asleep on the keyboard and Bocephus sorting through the basket of paper, sending it flying all over the floor. She grabbed the gray cat by the scruff of the neck, gave him a toy mouse to play with, and carefully moved Simba to the rocking chair.

  She hit the enter button and Christian Mingle popped right up, which meant that Clarice had already been in the office that morning and had forgotten to log out of the site. Emily had the cursor on the “log out” button, but she couldn’t force herself to hit the enter key. Just what did Clarice say to make those women believe that she was truly Greg? How did an eighty-year-old woman convince twenty- and thirty-year-old computer-savvy women that she was a cowboy?

  Curiosity won the battle playing out in her head. She opened up the chat window and her eyes got bigger, bigger, and bigger until she thought for sure they’d pop out of her head and Bocephus would bat them around the floor like marbles.

  Tonya: What kind of man are you?

  Greg: I like to be in total control.

  Tonya: Ohhh, I like a man like that. Shall I bring the leather?

  Greg: Honey, if you want to ride on our first date, it can be arranged.

  Tonya: Ohhh, I’d like to ride. I’ll bring the leather and a whip.

  Greg: No whips. I like a rough ride, but I’m not into whips.

  Tonya: So you are a down-to-business-type man?

  Greg: Yes, ma’am. I am a businessman. My grandmother and her friends are having a church bazaar at Lightning Ridge ranch on Friday night. Why don’t you join us and I’ll show you just how much I enjoy getting down to business.

  “Dear Lord,” Emily gasped.

  She had to look away from the screen to blink. And that’s when she saw the sticky note with four names attached. Tonya was one of the four.

  “You are in for a big surprise, Tonya. You’re speaking one language and the person playing Greg in this picture is speaking another. I’ll have to be on my toes for sure if I’m going to protect him that night,” she whispered.