by JoAnn Ross
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
“Of course she will,” Dora said. “Now you two go scoot. We’ve got some serious gossiping to get down to.”
Just as Sunny had feared, Dora didn’t waste any time.
Clint had no sooner left than the older woman turned to her, hands splayed on her ample hips and said, “So, have you known Clint long?”
“Only a few days.” Sunny opened up her suitcase, grateful that she’d thought to conjure up some clothing that first day. She had no idea what she would have done if she’d ended up without her powers or any clothes.
“Oh, I like those,” Dora said, leaning over to pluck a pair of hot pink jeans from the suitcase. “And they go great with this shirt and vest!”
Sunny stared down in disbelief at the suitcase filled with colorful rodeo gear. She’d never owned anything like these clothes; she’d never seen anything like them. She looked at her suitcase once again to assure herself it was, indeed, the one she’d conjured up. Then she realized what had happened, and grinned.
ANDROMEDA GLANCED WITH surprise at Harmony. “I seem to recall you saying something about free will. And Sunny being on her own.”
“Clothes aren’t going to make Clint Garvey fall in love with her,” Harmony countered. “And they’re not going to make her realize that her future is with Clint. But they will let her dress appropriately. I wouldn’t have let Cindy go to that ball without the proper gown and I won’t have Sunny not looking her best this rodeo weekend.”
“Those aren’t exactly glass slippers,” Andromeda observed as Sunny took the pair of pointy-toed rainbowhued boots from the suitcase.
“Glass slippers would be inappropriate for a rodeo. And besides,” Harmony said, “I like these better.”
SUNNY LOVED THE boots. She ran her fingers over the overlay of brightly colored leather that depicted a vaguely familiar western scene.
“Well, I’ll be dogged,” Dora said as she looked closer at the boot. “That sure looks like that big old red rock that rises up behind Clint’s house.”
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Andromeda had definitely outdone herself this time, Sunny thought.
“I thought you’d only known Clint a few days.”
“I have.”
“So how did you get a picture of his ranch on your custom boots?”
“It’s a coincidence,” Sunny said. “I didn’t even notice the resemblance until you pointed it out to me.”
“Well, I’ll bet that Clint notices it right off,” Dora said. “That sunset is a real nice touch.”
“Yes.” Sunny smiled, thinking how surprised Clint would be when he saw the amazingly realistic leather portrait of his ranch. Maybe he’d finally believe her. “It is, isn’t it?”
10
THE BAR WAS dim, cool, and crowded. Cowboys in stiffly starched jeans sat at the bar, the heels of their boots hooked over the rungs of wooden stools as they flirted with cowgirls dressed in everything from cotton to sequins. The cowgirls, none of whom appeared a bit shy, were happily flirting back.
All the tables were taken and in the center of the room, on a postage stamp-sized dance floor, a couple was twirling their way through the Texas Two-Step.
“So,” Rooster said to Clint, “how are things holding up? Financewise?”
Clint shrugged. “They could be better.” He took a long drink of his icy beer. “Then again, they could be worse.”
“That’s the ranchin’ business.” Rooster took a pull from his own bottle. “I’ll bet Matthew Swann ain’t hurtin’ any.”
Clint’s jaw hardened. “I don’t want to talk about Swann.” Just thinking about the man who’d been his father-in-law for one brief day, gave Clint the urge to order a double shot of whiskey, but he reluctantly stuck to the beer.
“Sure. To tell you the truth, as tough as things are right now, I’m glad I’m not working for him anymore.”
“You could be. If you hadn’t stuck up for me last summer.”
“Hell, the day I can’t stand up for a friend is the day I’m six foot under with daisies growin’ over me. Besides, the man was a real sumbitch.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Clint took another drink.
“I may be poor these days, but at least I don’t think Maalox is one of the major food groups anymore.”
Clint laughed at that. “The man does have a way of clenching up your insides. So, what are you going to do now that you’ve turned down the golden opportunity to become an emu wrangler?”
“Don’t know.” It was Rooster’s turn to shrug. “This is a bad time of year to find work. I was thinking Dora and me might head out to Texas or Oklahoma. Or, mebee Mexico.”
“Mexican food always gave you heartburn,” Clint said.
“Well, there is that,” Rooster agreed. “But if you can’t afford the tamales, you’re not in much danger of gettin’ heartburn.”
True enough. “I wish like hell I could offer you something, Rooster, but—”
“Hell, boy—” Rooster slapped the younger man on the shoulder “—don’t you worry about me. I’ve survived a lot worse than this.” His grin faded and his mouth gaped as the door to the bar opened. “Hot damn,” he said.
Clint looked up just as Sunny walked into the bar with Dora. She was dressed like a cowgirl in snug, creased jeans, a sunset-hued cotton western-cut blouse and cream Stetson. She’d pulled her hair back into a braid but errant strands had escaped, framing her exquisite face with gleaming gold. She looked born to the western clothes.
“Glory be,” Rooster said, lowering the longneck bottle that had been on the way to his mouth. “If that ain’t just about the prettiest filly I’ve seen in a lifetime of rodeoing.” He shot a sideways look at Clint. “I told you last summer it was important to get back on a horse after you took a fall. Looks like you found yourself a champion.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
It did not escape his notice that Sunny’d garnered the attention of everyone in the place. The men looked like mongrels drooling over a juicy rib eye steak; the women were decidedly less appreciative. As he watched one cowboy at the end of the L-shaped bar stand up and begin to saunter toward the women, Clint didn’t know exactly why he was angry. But he damn well was.
Fortunately, before he had to warn the would-be suitor that the lady was taken, Dora spotted Clint and Rooster and the two women started walking across the bar toward them, leaving the cowboy with a dejected look on his face. Tough, Clint thought with a flare of male satisfaction.
“Sunny and I are hungry,” Dora told the men without preamble. “We figured it might be a good idea for you two to treat us girls to some barbecue.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” Rooster said, sliding off the stool. “You sure look real pretty tonight, Sunny.”
“Thank you.” She dimpled prettily.
“Show Clint your boots, Sunny,” Dora coaxed.
Sunny bent down and pulled up her jeans to reveal the top of one leather boot.
“Well, ain’t that the niftiest thing,” Rooster said. “Look at that, Clint. It’s your place.”
“It seems to be.” Clint looked at her. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how you managed that.”
She grinned up at him. “Magic.”
As Rooster and Dora laughed, Clint continued to stare at her. His dark, thoughtful frown began making her nervous.
“If you don’t want to go out—”
“Whatever Dora wants is fine with me.” He finished off his beer, then put his hand on her waist in a proprietary gesture. “You can’t claim you’ve experienced a rodeo until you’ve had Kitty Campbell’s barbecue beef. If heaven had a taste, it’d be Kitty’s barbecue.”
“It’s her secret sauce,” Dora informed Sunny. “Passed down from her great-grandpappy. People have been trying for years to figure out what’s in it, but she won’t tell. There’s a pool going. It costs a buck to enter and the first person who guesses right
wins the pot.”
Always interested in new recipes, Sunny was looking forward to tasting this alleged heavenly ambrosia. “How much is in the pot?”
“Probably about five thousand dollars, give or take a couple hundred,” Rooster answered.
“Five thousand dollars?” Sunny stopped on her way across the dirt parking lot.
“Like Dora said, a lot of people have tried to guess over the years.”
Five thousand dollars! Sunny’s head was swimming as they wove their way through the trucks and trailers to the source of the billowing smoke that smelled of mesquite and grilled beef. Thinking of all the things Clint could do with so much money, she regretted her loss of powers even more. She supposed she could use a wish. But that would only leave her with one, which she needed to save just in case Charmayne and Clint needed a little help getting together.
But if forced to use that last wish, she’d never be able to go home. Which would leave her stuck here on earth, without her powers, or the man she loved.
Loved? The thought reverberated through her mind, bouncing around like one of the steel balls in the pinball machine by the door of the Boot Hill Saloon.
She couldn’t love Clint. Oh, she cared for him, certainly. After all, who wouldn’t? Beneath his gruff exterior was an honorable, caring man. And she certainly felt a great deal of compassion and sympathy for his loss, which again, was only natural.
But love? That was a solely mortal human concept. And she was…oh, dear heavens, Sunny thought. She was human. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d fallen in love with her assignment. A man destined for another woman.
-”Something wrong?”
Clint’s deep voice managed to filter through her tumbling, whirling thoughts. “What?” she asked blankly staring up at him. At his rugged, weather-hewn face, at his startling crystal blue eyes, at those full hard lips whose dark mysterious taste she could imagine even now…
“The way your mouth’s turned down, if you’re not careful you’re going to step on your lips,” he said.
“Oh. I was thinking of something.”
“I kind of figured that out for myself. So, want to let me in on whatever’s got you looking like someone just ran over your favorite dog?”
Not on a bet. She let out a long breath. “I don’t think so.”
He’d half expected another of her irritatingly glib evasive answers. But instead of annoying him, she’d succeeded in piquing his curiosity. Who was Sunny, anyway? And what the hell did she want from him?
Every woman wanted something. Most of the ones he went out with just wanted a good time, some wanted the money they thought he had because he owned a ranch, and still others had confessed they found the idea of going to bed with a man arrested for murder exciting.
Even Laura had wanted him to help her escape a miserable marriage. Oh, he had not a single doubt that she’d loved him. But the need had always been there, hovering in the background, even if he hadn’t ever wanted to face it. To talk about it.
But Sunny was different. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what her racket was. She had to be up to something; there were too many gaps in her story. It was almost as if she were hiding from someone.
“Are you married?” he asked suddenly, as the possible answer to her secretive behavior flashed into his mind.
“Married?” The way he’d been looking down at her, hard and deep, had tangled her nerves all over again. Of all the uncomfortable questions she’d been expecting, that definitely hadn’t been one of them. “Of course not! If I were married, I never would have let you kiss me.”
Although he knew it was a mistake, he couldn’t resist skimming a finger along the curve of her jaw. “You kissed me back,” he reminded her.
His low, tantalizing voice sent a hundred—a thousand—chords strumming inside her. She stood looking up at him, her eyes on his, wishing she had the strength to back away.
“Yes, I did. Which I wouldn’t have done if I’d pledged myself to another man.”
Her expression was so grave, Clint was tempted to laugh at her naivete. He almost told her that such old-fashioned virtue was out of place in this modern world of instant selfgratification, drive-through wedding parlors and no-fault divorces.
He wanted to drag her back to the motel and show her exactly what she was missing, all the hot and heavy mindblowing sex she insisted on depriving them both of. But he couldn’t do it. Because, as weird as it was, he found himself almost admiring her reluctance to compromise her own outdated beliefs.
“Okay, so you’re not married. Maybe you’re running away from a convent?”
She tensed as he began playing with the dangling turquoise-and-silver earring she’d found in her suitcase. “Do I look like a nun?”
He skimmed a glance down her body. The blouse was studded with pearlized snaps that would make taking it off her a breeze. The snug jeans might be a bit difficult to drag down those slender legs, but that would be half the fun. And then, after he’d dispensed with them, he could kiss his way back up again….
Damn. Hunger rose, hot and insistent, once again urging him to take her somewhere dark and private where he could kiss her senseless.
“No.” He shook his head and jerked himself back from the rocky precipice of temptation. “You don’t look like any nun I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s because—”
“I know. You’re my fairy godmother.” Shaking his head, he linked his fingers in hers and resumed walking. “I gotta say this for you, sweetheart, once you pick a story, you damn well stick to it.”
The barbecue beef was everything Dora and Rooster had promised. Tart enough to jangle the taste buds, tender enough to melt on the tongue. As Sunny sat on the bench beside Clint and across from the older couple, she chewed the succulent meat and decided that there were probably far worse fates than spending the rest of her life being mortal.
“Well,” Dora demanded, “what do you think?”
“It’s truly wonderful.”
“A slice of heaven, right?”
“Absolutely.” And a little bit of Kentucky. “What do you have to do to guess the recipe?”
“Simple. You give Kitty a dollar and take your best shot.”
“Why wouldn’t she lie?” From what Sunny’d witnessed, when it came to money, most mortals were less than honest.
“Because she wouldn’t,” Dora insisted.
She was so emphatic, Sunny believed her. She turned to Clint. “Would you mind advancing me a dollar on my salary?”
He was sorry he hadn’t thought to ask her if she’d needed any money. “Sure.” He lifted his hips off the bench. As she watched his hand go into his pocket, pulling his jeans tight against his groin, Sunny suffered a weakening jolt of need so strong she was relieved she was sitting down.
“Here.” He peeled some twenties from the roll and handed them out to her.
“One is enough.” She plucked a single twenty from the bills, slid out from behind the table and headed off toward the cooking wagon.
Dora, Rooster and Clint exchanged a look, then followed.
“Hi,” Sunny greeted the cook, whose weathered face was red from the heat. And, Sunny suspected, a bit of her great-grandpappy’s recipe.
“Back for seconds are you?” Kitty asked cheerfully. “Good idea. You’re a pretty little thing, but a tad too skinny. Men like women to have a little flesh on their bones.”
She patted her own ample hips that were straining the seams of her indigo jeans. “Something to hold on to in bed.” She grinned up at Clint, who’d come up behind Sunny. “Ain’t that right, cowboy?”
“Whatever you say, Kitty,” he drawled.
“Actually, I’ve come to make a guess,” Sunny said. “About your barbecue recipe.”
“Oh, really?” Kitty’s laugh was rich and bold and suggested she’d just gotten herself another sucker. “Hey everyone,” she called out. “There’s a littlegal over here wants to make a guess.”
Tha
t was all it took to bring people to their feet and begin hurrying toward Kitty’s wagon. Sunny glanced with surprise at Dora.
“Everybody around these parts has already run out of guesses,” the older woman explained. “It’s kinda a treat to get some new blood in the contest.”
Kitty’s eyes narrowed as she studied Sunny, as if looking at her through the sights of a gun. “You’re not from around here.”
“No.” That was definitely an understatement.
Kitty’s hands were still on her hips, but now they appeared to challenge. “How many times have you even eaten barbecue?”
“This is my first time.”
There was a knowing mumble among the crowd. Even Clint had to shake his head at her audacity. But she was kind of cute, he had to admit, standing there with her chin stuck out, facing down Kitty, who’d once spent sixty days in jail for throwing a meat cleaver at her cheating third husband.
“This is your first time. But you think you can figure out what people—folk who know good barbecue when they taste it—have been trying to figure out for near a quarter of a century?”
Sunny refused to be intimidated. “I believe I can, yes,” she said mildly.
“This is gonna be like takin’ candy from a baby.” Kitty laughed, a rough, heavy smoker’s bark as she plucked the twenty-dollar bill from Sunny’s fingers and counted out a ten, a five, and four ones in return. Meanwhile, more money began changing hands in the audience.
Everyone watched as the cook took a big slotted spoon, stuck it into the stainless steel vat and pulled out some shredded beef covered with a brick red sauce.
“Want another taste? Just to refresh your tastebuds?”
Sunny ignored the mockery as she’d ignored the laughter. “Thank you for offering. But that’s not necessary.”
“Well then.” Kitty dropped the spoon and folded her beefy arms across her chest. “What’s the secret ingredient?”
“Moonshine.”
There was a roar of laughter from the spectators, laughter that gradually dwindled as people realized that Kitty was not smiling. Instead, her face had gone as white as the paper napkins on the counter as she stared in disbelief at Sunny. Red splotches marred those too pale cheeks.
