Texas Hustle

by Cynthia D'Alba

  “I love a fire,” she said, leaning toward the flame and away from Darren’s lickable arms. “I think I might have been a pyromaniac in another life.”

  He chuckled. “Fall bonfires are the best,” he said, giving the stick one last stroke with his knife. “Cool enough to enjoy a fire but not so cold that you’re freezing to death.”

  “What are you doing?” She hitched a thumb toward the pointed stick.

  “Making the skewers for the hot dogs.”

  “We’re using sticks?” Her voice was aghast with amazement.

  Her mother had purchased specially designed stainless-steel roasting skewers when Porchia had come home from camp wanting to roast hot dogs every night. Their cook had allowed her to roast her wieners over the flame of the stove burner. Of course, her mother had made sure the wieners in their house were made only from the highest quality prime beef with no fillers. Those never tasted as good as the greasy ones from Brownie camp, but Porchia had made do.

  “Well, yeah. You got another suggestion for roasting these dogs?”

  “I don’t know. Some type of clean skewer?”

  He chuckled. “You’re funny. Here,” he said, handing her a freshly pointed stick. “This will be ours. It’s the best one.”

  She hesitated for a second. “Um, okay, I guess.”

  He laughed again and nudged her with his shoulder. “You hold our spot. I’ll go grab some dogs.”

  She twisted the stick around. It didn’t look too dirty. Still, maybe she should take it inside and give it a good washing. Before she could do much more than have that thought, Darren was back with four hot dogs.

  “Four? I might eat one.”

  “You just wait,” he said. “My dogs are to die for. And notice I was mature enough not to say wieners.”

  This time, she laughed. “Appreciate it.”

  He wasn’t lying. Within just a few minutes, she bit into the juiciest, most perfectly roasted hot dog. She immediately flashed back to Girl Scout camp and sighed.

  “Good?”

  “So good,” she replied, embarrassed at answering him with food in her mouth. She could practically hear her mother and grandmother telling her not to talk with her mouth full. She devoured the first dog and really wished she hadn’t already declined the second.

  It must be the night air making her want to do things she knew she shouldn’t, like eating that second hot dog or nibbling on Darren’s neck instead of dinner.

  “You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be chucking this stick into the fire and dragging you off to the cabin.”

  “What?” Porchia sat back in her chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Darren’s head turned to face her. “Yeah, you do.”

  Before he could elaborate, a truck pulled into the drive and Leo Mabee climbed out.

  “What’s Paige’s brother doing here?” she whispered. “Think something’s wrong?”

  Darren shrugged. “No clue. But I can’t imagine he drove two hours just to talk to her. Our phones work, remember?”

  Paige Ryan, Cash’s fiancée, looked up. Her face broke into a bright smile when she saw Leo.

  “You came,” she said.

  “Of course. What did you expect?”

  Confused glances flashed around the fire, except for Marc Singer. He acknowledged Leo with a knowing nod and finished eating. Leo was greeted warmly by the Montgomerys, which Porchia decided was the manner they greeted everyone.

  After declining offers of food and drink, Lane Montgomery asked, “So, Leo, what brings you all the way down here?”

  He smiled at his sister and then looked at Lane. “Not my story, sir. I’ll let Paige and Cash explain.”

  Heads turned toward Paige and Cash, who both stood. “We’ll be right back,” Cash said. He and Paige hurried off to their cabin.

  “Well, that was odd,” said Jackie. She looked at Travis. “Do you have any idea what these two are up to?”

  He shook his head. “No clue.”

  Porchia kept her eye on Marc Singer. He and Cash were best buds, but for Cash to have invited Marc to come on this family outing had to mean something.

  Marc had finished eating and had pulled some papers from his back pocket. He shuffled through the sheets of paper as though looking for something. Apparently, he either found what he was looking for or got them in the order he wanted.

  The sound of a cabin door slamming echoed. Marc stood and faced the group.

  “Cash and Paige have an announcement.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cash and Paige stepped from their cabin, Paige wearing a ruffled skirt that hit at the top of the cowboy boots on her feet. With the skirt, she’d paired a white cotton shirt and white cowboy hat. Cash wore jeans, the denim so dark Porchia suspected they were new, a white shirt, black cowboy hat and boots.

  Their hands interlaced, they walked over to the fire where their families sat.

  “Everyone we love is here tonight,” Paige said.

  “Right,” Cash said. “We thought, why drag all y’all off to somewhere else to see this? Why not do it right here, right now?”

  “Honey,” Jackie Montgomery said. “What exactly are you doing right here, right now?”

  Cash smiled, then pulled their joined hands up to his mouth and kissed Paige’s fingers.

  “Gettin’ married.”

  Marc Singer joined the couple. “I’m licensed to do weddings in Texas, so Cash asked me to come along this weekend and perform the ceremony.”

  Porchia grasped Darren’s hand and leaned over. “Oh my. This is so romantic.”

  Darren squeezed her hand and, following Cash’s example, lifted it for a quick touch of his lips to her knuckles. The brief caress momentarily stole her breath. She was glad she was seated, because she was sure her knees would have wobbled.

  “Travis. Can you be my best man?”

  Travis leapt from his chair. “Happy to.” He slapped Cash on the back. “This is great. Just great.”

  Paige looked at Caroline. “Seeing as you played a huge role in getting Cash and me together, can you be my matron of honor?”

  Caroline rushed up and hugged Paige.

  The vision of the two females hugging became blurry. Porchia blinked rapidly, trying unsuccessfully to clear the rising tide of tears.

  Paige’s face glowed with immeasurable happiness. The look on Cash’s face suggested he’d just won the lottery.

  The little green monster who lived inside Porchia raised its head and shot a flame of jealousy into her gut. Oh, she didn’t want Cash Montgomery. It wasn’t that. But the look of pure love on his face for his bride was something every woman dreamed of.

  The bride and groom, along with their attendants, turned toward Marc, who went into the wedding ceremony. Cash and Paige vowed to love and honor each other all the days of their lives.

  Porchia surreptitiously wiped at her eyes. When she glanced around to make sure no one had noticed her silly crying, she saw the other women dabbing at their eyes. Leo Mabee, Paige’s brother, wasn’t trying to hide his feelings. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

  A sniff drew her attention to Lydia Henson. She sat alone near the edge of the group, looking as miserable as if she were at a funeral instead of a wedding. Lydia’s gaze rolled over to where her ex-fiancée sat. Jason Montgomery was looking straight ahead at his brother and the bride, his face an unreadable stone mask. After a couple of long seconds, Lydia’s stare dropped down to the ground. When it did, Jason looked from the marrying couple to Lydia, seemed to study her for a minute before moving his gaze away. Porchia didn’t think she’d ever seen two more miserable people.

  And the entire episode reminded her why letting herself get emotionally invested in any other person was a set-up for heartbreak.

  The rings were exchanged, followed by a kiss that went on so long Cash’s parents chuckled. Still, when the newlywed couple turned around to face their families, their faces were radiant.

  �
�I am so happy for them,” Porchia whispered. “They both look insanely happy, don’t they?”

  Darren gave her a smile. “That’s what love does for you. As far as Cash goes, loving Paige probably saved his life.”

  “So I’ve heard. Well, I’m happy for them, and I love how they did this. No pre-wedding hoopla. No wedding drama.”

  “I’ll have to remember that,” he said with a grin.

  She bumped his shoulder with hers.

  “If you’ll join us at the lodge, Leo brought our wedding cake, right?” Paige said.

  Leo stood and headed to his car. He hefted a very large white box from the backseat. “Got it right here.”

  The next couple of hours were spent eating a wedding cake and drinking toasts to the couple. Porchia stifled a yawn and then glanced at her watch. It was only nine p.m., but she felt like it should be midnight.

  “I saw that,” Darren said as he slipped up to her side.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  “It’s the night air, the fire, all the excitement,” he offered. “I bet you wake up early too.”

  “As soon as the newlyweds leave, I’m out of here.” She turned toward him and lowered her voice. “I don’t mind taking the couch and giving you the bed. I tried out the sofa today and it’s really comfy. I’ll have no problem fitting on it. You, on the other hand, need all the room the bed offers.”

  Irritation flashed in his eyes. “I am not letting you sleep on the sofa. What kind of man do you think I am that I’d put my date on a couch and me in the bed? Forget it,” he added when she opened her mouth to argue. “I’ll sleep on the sofa. It’ll not be the worst place I’ve ever slept.”

  “You’re not going to be comfortable. It’s too short. Your feet will hang off.”

  “Whatever,” he snapped at her. “I don’t know what’s changed since this morning. I thought we had the sleeping arrangements all worked out.” He held up his hand. “It’s fine.” He blew out a long breath. “I think Cash and Paige are getting ready to head out.” He nodded toward the couple making a circle of the room to speak to each person.

  She and Darren stood not speaking as they waited to say their congratulations. Her heart pounded. Rushing blood throbbed in her head, giving her a headache. She hated Darren’s tone, hated hearing the disappointment in his voice. Yes, he was right that they had discussed the sleeping arrangements, and she’d been honest when she’d said she’d have no problem sharing, but at this moment, she was feeling a lot of flimsiness in her firm resolve to stay on her side of the bed.

  She couldn’t tell him that.

  He would think her another ditzy, irresponsible blonde.

  The buzzing in Darren’s head sounded like a hive of bees. He leaned against the stainless-steel counter and waited for his cousin and his new wife to reach him and his frustrating roommate…his beautiful-but-driving-him-crazy roommate.

  “Congratulations,” Porchia said, hugging Paige. “I love your outfit. And I love how you guys did this wedding. So perfect.”

  “Thanks,” Paige said. “Did you recognize the cake? You made it last week.”

  Porchia laughed. “I did, you sneaky thing. I thought it was for a couple named Patti and Carlton.”

  “It was delicious,” Cash said. “Mom’s freezing the top layer. Something about an anniversary?” He shrugged. “I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about.”

  “Tradition, honey,” Paige said, linking her arm through his. “We eat our cake on our one-year anniversary.”

  Cash frowned. “Now that sounds gross.”

  Porchia and Paige laughed, but Darren thought it sounded disgusting too. “Frozen year-old cake? Yuck.”

  “Don’t worry, Cash. It’ll taste just like tonight,” Porchia said. “Trust me. But if it doesn’t, I’ll make sure you have another one a year from now. How’s that?”

  His face looked relieved. “It’s a deal.”

  “If you’re through being all girly and talking about cakes, I’d like to congratulate you,” Darren said.

  The two men first shook hands, then Cash grabbed Darren in a hug. “Good Lord, man,” Darren grunted out. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  That just made Cash grin. “Can’t help it.” He threw his arm over Paige’s shoulders. “I just married the woman of my dreams. One day, you’ll know exactly how I feel.”

  “Oh, baby. I love you,” Paige said and kissed him.

  Darren was stunned by the jolt of jealousy that rattled down his spine. He wanted what his cousin had found with Paige. What his brother had found with Magda. He glanced at Porchia talking with Paige.

  And he wanted it with Porchia Summers.

  The newlyweds moved on to Reno and Magda. Suddenly, Darren felt like a balloon whose air had been released. His shoulders sagged.

  “You okay?” Porchia’s eyebrows were drawn down with concern.

  “Exhausted,” he confessed. “It’s not the work that wears me out. It’s the constant talking.”

  She nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Let’s say our goodbyes and head out. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard in the last hour.”

  The walk back to their cabin was quiet. Darren was thinking about the sleeping arrangements and wondered if she was too. But how could he broach the subject without making a mess of everything?

  She entered first, flipped on the living room lamp and toed off her shoes.

  “Oh,” she moaned, flexing her toes. “That feels so good.” She rolled her eyes upward. “Now you know, I’d rather be barefoot than in fancy, high-dollar shoes.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a barefoot redneck,” he joked. “In fact, some of my favorite people are barefoot rednecks, including me and my brother.”

  She extended her arms in his direction. “My people,” she said with a laugh.

  “See? I knew we were perfect for each other.”

  There was no reply from her, and he wondered if he’d stepped into a pile of manure with his comment, but then she chuckled. “You might have a valid point,” she said. “I smell like a fire, so I want to take a shower before bed. You want to go first?”

  “You go. I can wait.” He removed his hat and set it brim up on the coffee table.

  She ruffled his hair. “You like that dirty, rough cowboy smell, do ya?”

  He’d vowed he’d smell like a dirty, rough cowboy for the rest of his life if she would just keep running her fingers through his hair.

  “Nah. But I think I’ll have a drink first. Sort of wind down from the day.”

  “Suit yourself.” She stepped over her shoes and headed up to the bath.

  “Save me some hot water,” he called after her.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said with a grin over her shoulder.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her heart-shaped ass as she wiggled away. He sighed. He’d rather put his mouth on hers instead of the mouth of a bottle of bourbon, but the bottle appeared more attainable.

  He cracked the top on the new bottle and tilted the bourbon to his lips. The smoky, rich amber liquid erased all traces of cake sweetness as it rolled across his tongue and down his throat.

  He heard the water in the shower come on. Porchia was naked in there. Naked and slippery wet.

  His jeans tightened as his penis grew at the mental image.

  “Fuck,” he muttered and lifted the bottle again.

  Porchia climbed into the massive shower, determined to not use up all the hot water, but the multiple showerheads hitting and massaging her tired muscles from every direction had her moaning with pleasure. The only thing that could make this better was having Darren in here with her…not that she could ask him. Oh, he’d come, no pun intended, but she didn’t want to hurt him, or herself, for that matter, if she screwed up their friendship.

  She shampooed her hair and stood under one of the jet sprays, letting the soap trickle down her back while the pounding water stimulated
the blood flow to her head at the same time.

  He’d never hidden his interest in her. And she really, really liked him too.

  She’d read somewhere that girls have a tendency to marry men like their fathers. She remembered that when she played wedding with her friends, her imaginary nameless husband had always been someone like her dad or the fathers of her friends—suit-wearing professionals who went to an office every morning, did whatever they did and came home.

  A blue-collar guy with rough hands and a sunburned neck like Darren Montgomery had never shown up in her husband-slash-lover fantasies. Maybe it was time for her to rethink some of her more erotic daydreams.

  She wasn’t ready to get out of the shower. Far from it. The hot water beating her tired muscles into submission felt just too good, but she’d promised to leave Darren some hot water. She climbed out and wiped the moisture from her body, her mind continuing to throw thoughts at the speed of light. It was almost impossible to keep up with all of them.

  But when she bent over to run the towel down her legs, one thought stuck. Maybe, just maybe, the ideal man for her didn’t wear a thousand-dollar suit and work in an office. Maybe he wore dirty jeans, scuffed boots and a battered hat to work every day. And maybe he smelled more like hay and horse than Polo cologne and a pipe.

  She pulled on the thin-strapped top and tap pants she slept in, then looked at herself in the mirror. Turning side-to-side, she knew she wasn’t beautiful. Her mother had tried to show her how to make the most of her limited physical attributes. Her mother and grandmother had assured her that she was attractive enough, but even she could see that her nose was too pointed and her eyes too far apart.

  Grabbing her stomach pudge, she wiggled it. This frustrating pouch had attached itself to her and wasn’t going anywhere.

  Her thighs were not smooth either. When she pinched them, she could see the cottage-cheese dimpling.