by Stuart, Amie
“I just meant because of who he is and all. He’s loaded, and well, he’s not really a Boudreaux, but he was raised by them. So, in a way he is, and they’re a really big deal.”
I nodded, taking it all in. “So, Boudreaux isn’t Susie’s married name?”
“Oh, no. Susie’s a widow. She took back her maiden name after her husband died.” She wrinkled her nose and added, “I don’t think she was married for very long. Anyway, Tim’s parents died when he was little, and the Boudreauxes raised him. Susie’s brother is his godfather or something like that.”
“And just because he’s sort of a Boudreaux, that puts him out of your league?” I shook my head, and pointed my spoon at her as I spoke, “Let me tell you something. I’ve been around enough to know that while money makes life easier, there’s a lot to be said for having a kind heart. Not many people would’ve gone out of their way to help me the way you did. If anything, he’s out of your league.”
Her face turned a deep red, and she silently shrugged, her brown eyes solemn as she picked up her spoon.
In another lifetime, I would have expected to find her at Miss Rose’s. “Eat up. We got to go to work soon.”
HE WENT TO the dancehall early, intent on making an early night of it. Rene’d elected to stay home, still mad after having to help him clean all day, despite bribing her with the horses. At least it was done. The house looked better, the laundry was almost caught up, and it smelled better, too. More Lysol, less desperation.
Toni wasn’t behind the bar. No one was at the bar. A few waitresses hustled around, and one, little Kellie Baker, kept eyeing him. As if he’d drag her off by the hair and throw her in his pickup truck. He wasn’t the type of man to force a woman—ever. But it didn’t take a genius to see that Kellie was gun shy. He gave her a gentle smile, meant to calm, and slowly approached her, trying to recall what he knew about her at the same time. She’d been in his brother Zander’s class was all he could come up with.
She was in the middle of taking chairs off the table. Judging from the spots of damp concrete and the smell of disinfectant, they must have come in early to mop and clean. She set the chair on the floor and then watched as he grabbed the last one. He set it down and slid it under the table for her.
“Toni around?” he asked softly.
“She’s taking break.” Her fingers dug into the back of the wooden chair.
“Outside?”
She nodded, her red ponytail bobbing up and down.
“Thanks.” He headed out the double doors to their usual spot. She sat on the bench, her face covered with red splotches and eyes red as if she’d been crying. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffled and rubbed her face with the back of her free hand. The other held a glass of water. Concerned, he knelt beside her and took her free hand in his. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling her hand free. He was reluctant to let go, though, and tightened his grip just a bit. “It’s the cleaner. I think I’m allergic. It irritates my nose and stuff.” This time he freed her hand but covered it with his larger one, not willing to give up contact with her just yet. Despite her ravaged face, she looked cute with her hair in two braids. His fingers took on a will of their own, and he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. One hand rested on her thigh, the other gently stroked her long slender fingers. He ignored the painful bite of the brick walkway into his knee. Her lips looked soft and wet, like she’d been biting them. What would they’d taste like? What would they feel like under his?
“What are you doing later?” The words were out before he could stop them.
The short laugh that escaped her held no humor; neither did her face. She wiped her hands on her jeans and crossed her legs, forcing him to remove his hand. “Always looking for an opportunity, eh?”
Rather than apologize, he grinned and shrugged, deciding to stay silent and see what she’d say.
“I’m working. That’s what I’m doing later. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“I have.” He turned her hand over, then bit back a sigh as she tugged it free. “And after?”
“That’s not my style.” The laughter in her eyes was replaced with a narrow-eyed wariness as she stood. He reluctantly gave it up, clambering to his own feet. She stood facing him, hands on her hips, full lips pursed. It took everything Tim had not to lean down and nibble on them. “You know, the only reason you want me so bad, Flirty Boy, is because you can’t have me.”
He let her words sink in as she quirked an eyebrow and made to walk past him. Was it true? Was it only the challenge he wanted? Was he really that shallow? Or jaded?
“You haven’t even asked me out on a real date. All you see are my big tits and my big ass. You don’t know nothing about me. You just want me to go home with you and let you scratch my itch. Well, what if I don’t have an itch for you to scratch? Did you ever think about that?”
She had a point. He didn’t know a damn thing about her. Maybe if he took her out, he’d find out she was boring or shallow or that they had nothing in common. “So, go out with me.”
She pokered up and crossed her arms over her chest again, then gave him a suspicious once-over. “You want me to go out with you. Like on a real date?”
“You just said I don’t know you. Hell, you practically dared me to ask you out. So, I’m standing here, looking you in the eye, and asking you out. Now, will you go to dinner with me Sunday night?”
She visibly tensed, and he almost regretted backing her into a corner. But she had pushed him into asking her out. Fair was fair. “Fine.” She wet her lips. “Where? What time?”
“What do you like?”
“Surprise me,” she said, then tried to step past him.
“Now that’s not fair.” He pointed a finger at her, his eyebrows shooting up. “I would be more than happy to buy you dinner and take you dancing, my little Creole Queen, and spend the evening getting to know you, but don’t set me up for a fall right outta the chute.”
She thought for a moment, a tiny, tight smile on her face. “I like anything. I’m really not picky. Just…no sushi.”
“Have you seen the Riverwalk yet? Where are you from, again?”
“Vegas, most recently.”
“Like Leaving Las Vegas Vegas?” he asked, grinning.
“The cowboy knows Sheryl Crow,” she said, giving him what was quite possibly her first genuine smile since they’d met.
He struggled to remain silent, unwilling to confess that it was his brother, Zack, who was the fan.
“So, where are we going?”
He named one of his favorite restaurants, adding, “Great food, nice atmosphere.” He looked her up and down, and added, “Not too uptight. Not too casual.”
“Well, here you are, Toni. We’ve been looking all over.” His aunt nodded in his direction, her blue eyes hard. “Tim.” She’d heard. Which meant he was probably in for an ass-chewing in the near future.
“Tim and I are going out tomorrow night.” The way Toni said it made the hairs at his nape prickle, and he felt as if he were caught between two she-cats.
“I see,” Susie said softly before turning her sights on him. “Where’s Rene?”
“She stayed home. Said she was going to watch a movie with Delaney later.”
“Toni, could you excuse us, please?”
“Certainly.”
He watched her walk away while he braced himself.
“I thought I told you to stay away from my bartender, Timothy!”
“We’re just going to dinner, Sus.”
“That’s ‘Aunt Susie’ to you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and waited to see what she’d say next. With her, it was best to let her blow and go until she worked it out of her system.
“So help me God, Timothy Patrick, if you run off my bartender, I’ll have your ass! And that’s a promise!”
“It’s just dinner. I won’t run her off.”
“Swear,” she demanded, poking him in t
he chest. “Swear to me, Timothy.”
“I swear, Aunt Susie, I will not run off your bartender.” That definitely wasn’t a part of his plan.
“Now,” she said with a sigh, “how’s Rene doing? Are you keeping an eye on her?”
“Fine. I need to take her shopping soon for new bedroom stuff. We cleaned house today,” he added for good measure.
“Good. That house could use some sprucing up.”
He leveled his gaze on her, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “We cleaned today,” he said again.
She slowly shook her head. “You need to do right by her, Tim, or it’ll come back to haunt you. I know you get tired of listening to me nag, honey. But I nag because I care, and you know if I can do anything to help, all you have to do is ask.”
But he never did went unsaid. He knew she meant well. More importantly, he knew she meant every word. She’d never let him down yet, but there were some things she couldn’t help him with. “Think I’ll have a beer then head home.”
THE ONLY THING I hated more than housework was housework with my dad. He was always, “you missed a corner here,” or, “you forgot to wipe that off there.” So, yeah, I was glad when he left early for the dancehall before I did something stupid–like push him down the stairs. After he was gone, I spent thirty minutes in the shower washing away all the grime I’d picked up and the smell of disinfectant. Then I stretched out on the bed and dozed off while trying to decide what to cook myself for dinner. Aunt Dee came barreling into my bedroom door around dinnertime, waking me up and scaring the bejesus out of me.
“What?” I shouted, sitting straight up. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Where’s your dad, punkette?” She didn’t bother to apologize. Just hopped on the bed next to me and gave the mattress a few extra bounces.
“He left already.”
“I see y’all cleaned today. You just gonna lay here all night or what?”
“Dad even made me dust the freaking blinds.” I was tired.
“Little House in the Big Woods?” Her eyebrows slowly rose as she picked up the tattered book on my nightstand.
I shrugged. “It was all I could find over at Grams.”
“Get up.” She smacked my leg. “We’re going shopping. You became a woman this week, and I, for one, refuse to let this momentous occasion pass unacknowledged.” She snatched the book out of my hands, smacked me on the butt with it, and rolled off the bed. “Now get dressed!”
Hanging with Aunt Dee vs stuck at home, alone and bored? No contest. She stood in the doorway watching as I exchanged my shorts and tank top for a clean T-shirt and jeans, and then slid on my boots.
Her brows pulled together in a frown and her upper lip curled the tiniest bit. “Don’t you have any other shoes?”
In answer, I walked to the closet and returned holding a pair of beat-up sneakers.
“Your daddy should be shot,” she said as she shook her head. “Doesn’t he know how to dress you?”
“I dress myself, thank you very much.” I dropped the shoes and crossed my arms, frowning at her. I was the only one allowed to insult Daddy.
“Sorry. Look, I just thought it might be fun to go do a little shopping, grab some dinner, and rent a movie.” She pointed over her shoulder and drawled. “But if you’re not interested, no problem.”
“Just don’t make fun of my dad or my boots, and we’re good.”
“But I can’t help it. They’re so big and ugly.”
I ignored her, grabbing a brush off my bathroom counter instead. I ran it through my hair and twisted it up in a messy bun like she’d taught me. “I’m ready.”
“Perfect! Let’s go.”
We took off in Aunt Dee’s un-air-conditioned car, stopping to rent some movies at the H-E-B on our way into San Antonio. It was pretty picked over, so she said we’d check the bargain bin at Target. That didn’t go so well either. I tried to get one of the Underworld movies but she said no gore and nothing scary. She also nixed the Men In Black trilogy with no explanation, and we ended up settling on Legally Blonde and Sweet Home Alabama—both on sale. Aunt Dee squealed.
I gagged.
I saw girly movies in my future but Delaney swore they were funny—and awesome. Then she spent at least a decade picking out makeup and forcing me to stand still while she hemmed and hawed between different shades of pink and red blush. Aunt Dee swore she was also going to get some makeup on my face—or else. Frankly, I didn’t see what the big deal was, but she said it’d be fun. I wasn’t sure I agreed.
“I’m starving,” I finally protested as she dragged me through the books section.
“Relax.”
“Why are you buying kid’s books?” I looked in the basket where she’d thrown a book.
“Because mine are in storage or I’d loan them to you. And these aren’t kid’s books. Now hush, I’m trying to think,” she said as she debated between two other books she held in her hands. She threw them both in and added one more before she gave me a knowing smile. “You’ll love ‘em. They’re a blast.”
I just rolled my eyes. Next, we hit the magazine rack, and she snatched up Seventeen, Teen People, Teen Vogue and a handful of hairstyle magazines. She filled the other half of the basket with snacks. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought we were running away.
“I thought we were getting dinner,” I finally said.
“We are. These are for the movie.” She grabbed three bags of Chex Mix from the shelf and kept moving, heading for the front of the store.
Thank God, we were done.
Or not.
Aunt Delaney shanghaied me outside of Target and dragged me down to the beauty supply for crap to do my nails with.
When we finally got back in the car, I glanced in the back seat at the bags of junk, but sat silent and sweaty as she drove. It was still better than a PB&J sandwich and a book I’d already read four jillion times.
“Barbecue for dinner okay with you?”
“I got ten bucks.” I pulled the crumpled bill from my pocket, worried about all the money she’d spent on me. I didn’t know if Poppy’d put her on the payroll like he’d done me or even given her an allowance. Probably not, since she knew crap-all about feeding livestock and checking fences and stuff.
“It’s all on Dad. Barbecue? Or you maybe want Chinese?”
“Poppy?” I sank a little lower in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, I told him what—”
“You told Poppy I started my period?” I shrieked, hurting even my own eardrums.
Delaney snorted, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she pulled into the restaurant’s drive through. “When Zack and Jessa called last night, your Gram told them.”
“You’re shittin’ me!”
“Potty mouth! You need to quit spending so much time with your Aunt Jessa,” she quipped before turning back to the menu board. “Chicken okay? I don’t really like to eat beef.”
“You live on a ranch.” I was still too overcome at the fact that my whole family knew I’d started my period. God, had someone told Uncle Rowdy? Aw, man. I slid lower in my seat and leaned my head against the door frame.
Back at the house we settled in with our dinner—chicken breast, BBQ beans, and coleslaw—and Legally Blonde. Before I’d even finished eating, Aunt Dee had cleaned her plate and started dumping her loot on the couch, stacking the snacks in one pile, the books on the table. And all the makeup and nail polish beside my plate. She hopped up and disappeared, only to return a few minutes later with a bucket of warm water and refills of Coke for the both of us.
“Sit on the couch.”
I set my plate on the coffee table and scooted up on the couch. “That’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” I said, referring to the dog in the movie.
“Well, I guess I won’t be getting you a Chihuahua anytime soon,” she teased. She tugged off my boots and socks, and then rolled up my jeans. She hopped up again and reappeared with towels. “Stick your feet i
n the water.”
“Why? What’s that noise?”
“The water. Now just do it.”
“Bossy.” This was going to be the longest movie night ever. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV up so I could hear over the low buzz created by the bucket of water. “Where’d that come from anyway?”
“I brought it with me earlier. Are you listening to me, Rene?”
I wasn’t, actually. I was trying to finish my dinner and watch the movie she’d forced on me.
She grabbed the remote and hit pause. “Feet are important. Remember that.”
“Do you honestly think I give a shit if some guy likes my feet? I don’t even like boys.”
“I’m not talking about boys. I’m talking about you.”
“Good, because I don’t expect any boy is gonna see my feet inside my boots anyway.” I yanked my feet out of the swirling, warm water and turned the movie back on. She immediately shoved them back in.
“This is about taking pride in your appearance, Rene. Also, nice feet make you feel good.”
“Why?” I drawled.
“Because you’re doing something for yourself. My mom used to say that was important,” she added softly.
I stopped objecting after she mentioned her mom, and she left me alone just long enough to finish my dinner, then yanked one foot out of the water and started jabbing and poking at it, cutting my toenails and scrubbing at my heels.
“Be sure you poke that wooden stick right through my arch when you’re done,” I finally said.
“Quit whining. I’m almost done with this foot.”
I tried to tune her out as I watched some blonde try to take over a college and paint it pink. The dog was still ugly, but she was right. It was a funny movie—not that I’d ever tell her that. A few minutes later she jabbed me for laughing too hard and causing her to mess up a little.
“There, I’m done.” She propped it on the coffee table and beamed at me.
I examined my shiny, clean foot that didn’t look much different from when she’d started, unsure of what to say. I went for honesty. “Looks the same to me.”
