by Hebby Roman
“How is all that country not oozing from your ears?”
“Earplugs.”
He laughed loudly, and as the song changed to a fast tempo number, he said, “Hold on.”
Suddenly, he whisked her around the floor in a dizzying pace. She followed his effortless lead, hanging on for dear life and concentrating on her feet, afraid if she didn’t, she might trip and send them both flying.
As soon as the song ended, another began and, before she realized what had happened, she was in the arms of a different cowboy, two-stepping around the dance floor. The scene repeated itself several times, until finally, she begged off to sit for a while.
She sat at the table, where the number of longnecks had tripled, and searched the crowd for Daniel. She spotted him at the bar talking to the bartender.
He waved and worked his way over to her. When he sat, he looked at the table and said, “I talked to Andy at the bar and asked him to divert some of these beers to the crowd.”
“Other than the obvious, where are they coming from?”
“Apparently, you’ve acquired a group of admirers.”
“Wow, I’m going to have to let a few of them down easily or else I’ll be joining AA tomorrow.”
Liberty laughed with him and realized this was the cowboy she wanted to concentrate on, at least until she could figure out where this thing she felt for him might be going.
Chapter Six
Daniel pulled his truck to a stop outside his house. He reclined the seatback. He wasn’t as tired as he thought he’d be after working and dancing. He and the others had knocked off work on the stage earlier than usual and, as it turned out, he hadn’t danced as much as he’d thought he might.
Twinkle Toes Hart, on the other hand, had danced the night away. Every cowboy in the joint had bought her a beer and taken her for a twirl around the floor. She had seemed to enjoy the attention plus a goodly number of flyers for Saturday’s event were handed out.
He glanced at the passenger side when she stirred. Curled up in the leather seat, she slept soundly. He’d half expected her to talk his arm off, after they left the bar, but she’d barely spoken a half dozen words before closing her eyes.
She’d insisted he bring her to his house, as opposed to Lilah and Jack’s, saying she didn’t have a key and didn’t want to wake them to let her inside. While that made sense to a point, he now had to get her out of the truck and into his house.
He returned his seat to its upright position and shut off the engine. Leaving the warmth of the pickup cab, he zipped his down jacket and walked to the passenger side to retrieve his house guest.
After opening the door, he said softly, “Hey, Liberty. We’re here.”
She buried deeper into her seat without acknowledging him.
“Come on,” he cajoled. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” Out of self-preservation, he decided not to wait on her to wake up. He slipped one arm behind her back, slid the other under her legs, lifted her up, and then pushed the door closed with his foot.
Inside, he laid her atop the bed in the master suite, removed her coat and boots and covered her with a comforter. He wouldn’t have been surprised, in the least, if she raised up and asked, “What’re you going to do, stand there and watch me all night?”
He’d discovered this past week that he liked her comebacks and cutting remarks. Well some of them anyway. He grinned. She kept him on his toes and ready with a comeback of his own. He did enjoy a good challenge.
He left the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and went into the den. He kicked off his boots, pulled his shirttail from his jeans and sat on the couch. Just before he closed his eyes, headlights flashed across the stone wall of the fireplace. He first thought it could be Jack worried about Liberty, but either he or Lilah would’ve called first. No, whoever it was had their nerve showing up at four o’clock in the morning.
He got up, took his twelve gauge from over the mantle, a couple of shells from the cabinet in the bookcase, and went to the door. Just before he opened it, he loaded a shell into the chamber and set the gun behind the door within easy reach if needed. He turned and pulled the door knob to find Zena standing there in the same clothes she’d worn earlier, minus the apron.
“Hey, cowboy, it’s me.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“We didn’t have time to visit earlier, so I thought I’d drop by.”
“At four A.M.?”
“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve been together, and I thought you’d appreciate me stopping by.”
Her deep breath stretched and tested the tactile strength of the cotton material of her tank top and its ability to contain its cargo. Like any red-blooded male with a pulse, he could appreciate the female form and did so often. He also preferred subtlety and finesse.
“Go home, Zena.” He took the gun from behind the door, emptied the shell from the chamber, put it away and returned the gun to its place above the fireplace. “It’s late and I’m tired.”
“But, Danny, I can help you sleep,” she purred.
He nearly jumped into the fireplace when, standing behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and one leg around his thigh. He whirled about so quickly, she struggled to remain standing. Grabbing her by her upper arm, he marched her to the door.
“Zena, this is the last time I’m going to tell you. I’m not interested in what you’re giving away. Go home and see if you can find where you left your pride and self-respect.”
Fire and daggers shot from her eyes and, if he wasn’t mistaken, smoke rose from her ears. Daniel couldn’t remember when he’d seen a woman so furious. He watched until she got in her car and her taillights disappeared into the darkness.
He dropped onto the couch and chuckled. By damn, if Zena wasn’t right. He was exhausted, thanks to her, and would probably have no trouble falling asleep. Hopefully, she had gotten his message and he wouldn’t have to deal with her in the future.
No, sir, he much preferred the auburn haired, stubborn woman sleeping in his bed. Lady Liberty was probably a lot more trouble than he could ever imagine. But Lord willing, he was ready to find out.
* * *
Liberty rolled over onto her back. She reached her hands out on either side of her expecting to feel the wall on her right or the bed’s edge on her left . . . nothing but bed. She discovered the same with her feet. The sheets even had a different feel. Without opening her eyes, she knew she wasn’t in her borrowed bed at Lilah’s.
Where in Texas was she?
Slowly, last evening came back to her. The band, the music, the dancing, the beer . . . oh, lordy, the beer . . . all of it flooded back, even why she’d apparently ended up in Daniel’s bed. She remembered asking him to bring her here, but was that all she’d asked?
Opening her right eyelid just a titch, she lifted the comforter to find she was fully clothed. Thank goodness she hadn’t made a fool of herself, or maybe he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage, but either way, she didn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten here.
The smell of bacon and coffee wafted into the room and her stomach growled. Carefully, she scooted to the side of the bed and held her head, fully expecting complete hangover mode. Nothing happened when she sat up, no pounding, not even a twinge of a headache. Wasn’t that a pleasant surprise?
She made a stop in the bathroom and, while there, found a bottle of mouthwash which she used to knock back some of her dragon breath.
On her way to find the kitchen and the heavenly smell of food, she passed five bedrooms. Not one of them had a stick of furniture. Counting the master bath, there were four bathrooms. The last bedroom she looked into did have a tray, a sleeping bag and the same guitar that had been in his truck. The hallway opened into the living room or family room and here, as in the rest of the house, the furnishings were scant.
The kitchen, too, was huge and fit well with the remainder of the house. Granit
e countertops, tile, steel and large windows that showcased the backyard and pool. What was Daniel Layman, farmer, rancher, cowboy, doing in a place like this?
Covered dishes sat on the center island with a note.
Liberty, after you’ve eaten, come find me. I’m in the barn. D
A few minutes later, she chewed the last piece of bacon, stacked the dishes, poured another cup of coffee, and went in search for her host. She left by the front door, so she could see the house as a visitor might. The size and scope of the place took her breath away. The rock, glass and style of the house would rival most of the mansions in Nashville or in Houston, for that matter.
She walked around to the back and out to the barn. Daniel waved to her and disappeared back inside. By the time she entered, he was locking a Dutch door and shoving the key into his pants pocket. The door sat between two stalls, not normally where she would have expected to see a door.
“What are you doing?” Technically, it was none of her business, but she asked anyway.
“Nothing really,” he answered. “It’s a project I’ve neglected lately, thought I’d spend time on it this morning while you slept.”
“I see.”
He grabbed a rag and began wiping grease from his hands and tools. “So how was it?”
“How was what?”
“Sleep, breakfast, coffee – do I need to make a list?”
She considered popping back that she might need to find a pen but reconsidered. “I think I can keep track.”
“Then, let’s hear it.” He leaned his hips against one of the stalls, his thumbs hooked in his front pockets.
“Okay, thank you for the bed and breakfast.” She crossed her arms at her waist and glared. “Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you can be?”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
She didn’t know anything about barns, per se, but as she looked around, like the house, it looked new and barely used.
“How long have you lived here, Daniel?”
“I don’t know, maybe eight years? Why?”
“The house,” she began. “It looks new and you have hardly any furniture. The barn’s new, too.”
He didn’t say anything in response, just pushed away from the stall and started putting the tools back into a red mechanics tool chest.
She suddenly wished she hadn’t pried. His reasons were his own and private. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business, and I apologize.”
A few more seconds passed and, finally, he said, “You’re okay. I inherited the house and land, and never knew what to do with it. My tastes run a little different.”
“Like how, for instance?” She sat on a stool beside the toolbox, eager to hear what he liked.
“You’re really interested?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at her, as if trying to decide whether to share. “Come on, then.”
Liberty set her coffee cup on the lid of the toolbox and followed Daniel through the barn and out the back to an old farm house.
The structure had seen better days and had probably been quite a show stopper when new. She guessed it had been built in the 1920’s or 30’s. She could only imagine the love and history that had happened on the large front porch and inside those walls.
“Wow, Daniel, I bet she was a beauty in her day.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I decided to try and bring her back to her former glory, with a few updates.”
It was then, she noticed the temporary pole for electricity, like she’d seen on Lilah’s place by the stage. She followed him up the steps to the interior. As chilly as it was outside, it was even colder inside. She folded her arms across her middle and shivered.
He closed the door and came up behind her. He ran his hands up and down her upper arms and said, “Sorry there’s no heat.”
“I don’t mind, so much.”
The stairs to the second floor were directly in front of her with two rooms, a parlor and dining room, on either side and a hallway leading to the back of the house. In the room she assumed to be the parlor, a power saw, drill, and nail gun sat in the middle of the floor.
“You’re serious about restoring the house, aren’t you?”
“It’s the least I can do.” He started up the stairs, and over his shoulder, said, “Come on, I’ll show you the upstairs.”
She followed him upstairs with his last statement echoing in her head. It’s the least I can do. What did he mean by that? She had an instinct it had something to do with his inheritance. Who had left him this place, and why did he feel obligated to keep it, when he so obviously disliked the big house?
* * *
Daniel enjoyed showing her the farm house. The fact that she asked solid questions, not out of left field, made it interesting and let him show off a little. He was proud of what he’d learned about construction, and it was a thousand miles away from the music industry.
He suddenly had an idea to ask her to stay for dinner, but when he turned, she had detoured into the parlor. He found her looking intently at the tile surrounding the fireplace.
“What’re you looking at?”
“I’m curious about the tile.” She continued to pick at a chip in the paint with her fingernail. “I’m guessing the house was built mid 1920’s and, if this is what I think it is, we can confirm it. Do you know when it was built?”
“In 1922,” he answered quickly. “I have the original deed. What are you thinking?”
“Come here.”
He joined her, getting down on one knee.
“Despite having an unfortunate run-in with a paint brush, I believe you have some original Batchelder tile.”
“I’ve heard of it, but how do you know that?”
“I don’t really, and it’s probably a longshot, but I watch a ton of do-it-yourself rehab shows on television. Batchelder tile was used in the arts and crafts style of architecture. One show talks about it a lot.”
“Interesting,” he said. “If you’d like to stay and help me figure out this mystery, I believe I have a steak with your name on it.”
“You’re on, cowboy.”
Chapter Seven
Liberty made it back to Daniel’s house just about six o’clock. She’d borrowed his truck to go to Lilah’s and let her know what was going on, and then she’d dashed into town to the grocery store for salad makings and baked potatoes.
She grabbed the brown paper sack containing the bulk of their dinner and found him on the patio firing up the grill. She waved and went into the kitchen to chop lettuce and tomatoes and put the potatoes in the oven. After that was done, she retrieved two beers from the fridge and joined him.
She was surprised to find him using a small portable grill, more on the order of a hibachi, rather than the commercial grade gas grill installed in the outdoor kitchen.
She noted the bag of charcoal and can of liquid Firestarter and, handing him one of the longnecks, asked, “Hey, how are you coming with that fire?”
“Thanks.” He put the cover back on the small grill and took the beer. He touched his bottle to hers and said, “It’s gettin’ there, just a little longer and the coals will be ready.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster on the gas grill?”
“That behemoth? The one who has no soul?” He lifted the lid from the much smaller grill and crooked his finger motioning her closer. “Come look.”
She did as he requested, hovering over the heat radiating from the coals. “What am I looking at?”
“The charcoal briquettes.” He reached into the bowels of the grill, gingerly moving the square shapes around. “See the grey color?”
“Yes.”
“When they turn the right shade, that’s when I put the steaks on.”
Visions of a cave man, knuckles dragging the ground, sitting beside his campfire crossed her mind. She wanted to laugh, but he was so serious, she didn’t have the heart. “So, what is the right shade?”
; “The tops are a white-greyish color that—” He stopped talking, glanced up and burst out laughing. “So, you’re making fun of me, huh?”
“A little bit. Turns out you’re as anal and controlling as I am.”
“Maybe, but you’ll appreciate it after you taste your steak.” He closed the lid on the cooker. “How do you like it cooked?”
“Rare, please.”
“Really? That’s a surprise.”
“Not so much, considering the business I’m in. One develops a taste for raw meat if one plans to survive.”
He grew quiet, seeming to withdraw into himself, making her wonder, not for the first time, what he was keeping from her.
He suddenly stood, slapping his thighs with his hands. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. I’ll start cooking out here, if you’ll get the rest of the meal on the table.”
* * *
Daniel ate the last bite and pushed his plate toward the center of the table. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I have dined sufficiently. How was your steak?”
“Delicious, so tender I could practically cut it with my fork. I think the briquettes beneath mine had the better color.”
“Lady Liberty,” he drawled. “You are going to hell.”
“When you get there, I’ll be the one sitting with a group of friends.”
He studied her through narrowed eyes and grinned. He liked that she could match him quip for quip and not get bent out of shape. He’d already figured out on some level, he was drawn to her red-brown hair that hung in waves down to the middle of her back, her dark blue, ocean-colored eyes, and then add in her saucy personality . . . he was barely treading water and he knew it.
She moved the remains of her salad around her plate with her fork. “What, no comeback? I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”
He didn’t think she looked disappointed at all. In fact, her blue eyes were dancing with mischief.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “I’m a little relieved, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“This back and forth with you, while fun and challenging, is, quite frankly, exhausting.”
