by BA Tortuga
They made it before his legs collapsed, his knees shaking. “Whew.”
“God, you’re strong, baby.” Emmy stroked his hair away from his face.
“I am for you.” He just worked hard, right? He wasn’t any more or less than any man.
His girl smiled at him. “Love you, huh?”
“Love you, too, honey. This was such a good idea.”
“It was. I could just hang out with you forever.”
“Mmm. Good.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her again, but he couldn’t. Just couldn’t yet.
Emmy kept touching him. “Going to watch you ride tomorrow.”
“I know! How cool is that?” Sure, he was a little worried about how everyone would treat her, but he was more stoked that she was going to get to see a whole event.
If it killed someone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Okay, so, maybe she could just stay at the hotel.
Em looked at herself, jeans, tank top, one of Cotton’s shirts, boots. God.
God, she shouldn’t be worried, right?
Right.
She was a Texan, damn it. This should be in her blood, even if she wasn’t raised in it. That was it. Texan.
Cotton had already left for the event, but there was no way she could go with him so early, so some of the ladies were coming to pick her up. She felt awful, but she couldn’t remember their names. The one was a bullfighter’s wife, the other was one of the other riders’ wives. Maybe she should just grab a cab. Fake sick. Something. She—
The phone rang by the bed and she picked it up.
“Ma’am? You have people here to meet you.”
Damn.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll be right there.”
She straightened her shirt, tucked her hair behind her ear and made sure she had her lipstick in her pocket. Right. Ready.
She headed out and through the courtyard, where an older, pretty darned pregnant lady and a pretty, tiny little thing with the biggest hair ever waited.
“Are you Emily?”
She nodded, and the older lady held out a hand. “Tracy. I’m Nate’s wife. This is Samantha. She belongs to Danny Richards.”
“Hi.” She shook hands, hoping her palm wasn’t all sweaty. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.”
“No big! Cotton picked Danny up, so it was fair. God, you have great eye makeup. Can you show me how you do that with the liner?” Samantha was dressed all in pink, from her flip-flops to her lipstick.
Her hair was champagne colored, though. All frosted highlights. Tracy was older, with lines around her eyes and a mouth that spoke of sun and smiles.
“Sure. The trick is to get the really good liquid stuff.” It even held up in New Orleans. “So is this a good event?”
“The riders think so.” Tracy winked at her. “The bullfighters, not so much. It’s humid to run around for so long.”
“Oh, I bet. It’s better than outside, though, right?” See her. See her try to sound like she’d at least read some online—or listened to what Cotton talked about.
“You know it, honey.” Tracy winked at her. “Come on. The kids are going to eat each other’s brains, and as much fun as that sounds, their daddy would bitch.”
“Kids?” She liked kids. “How many?”
“I have three—twelve, eight and two.” She patted her belly. “This one’s due in early August. Samantha has one coming in…seven months, honey?”
“Six and a half.”
“Wow. Congratulations.” Emmy smiled. Cowboys made lots of babies, apparently, but they usually made pretty ones, from what she’d seen.
“Just wait. You’ll be there. Cowboys are good at three things.” Samantha glanced at Tracy, then they spoke together.
“Riding, fighting and making babies.”
“I’ve seen the fighting.” And she still thought it was very, very hot. A few seconds later she got to see Tracy’s babies. They looked nothing like her. At all.
The two older children, one boy and one girl, were blond and blue eyed and beautiful. Then that baby boy—sound asleep in his car seat—was the prettiest thing ever.
“So cute.” She whispered it, not wanting to wake anyone.
“Thanks. You and Sam’ll fit side by side up here.” Tracy slid into the huge truck, nodded to the hotel attendant who’d been standing watch.
“You bet.” She crawled in next to Sam, feeling huge, even though she and Tracy were close in size.
Samantha grinned at her. “Did you hear? AJ actually got Missy and all those kids here. I heard that they went to feed alligators yesterday with Sam and Beau.”
“Mama, can we feed alligators?” A little voice piped up.
“Uncle Coke said him and Dillon could maybe come with us.” That was the girl.
“Do you guys know what they feed the alligators?” Emmy had seen it on a wildlife show once.
Two sets of bright blue eyes met hers. “No. What?”
“Marshmallows! They can’t get enough of them.”
“Man… I thought it was Yankees.” Tracy’s whisper made both her and Samantha chuckle.
“Only on weekdays.” She winked, the ladies cackled and the kids looked at her cross-eyed.
“Okay, y’all. Daddy says we have special parking. Look for Uncle Poppy’s truck.”
“Uncle Poppy?” She hoped she didn’t sound stupid, but she didn’t know exactly who all everyone was.
Tracy grinned. “Coke Pharris. One of the Gardner boys—the oldest one, the one that’s not quite right?—he started calling Coke Uncle Poppy years ago and it stuck. He’s a bullfighter. He works with my husband.”
“Oh! I met Mr. Coke yesterday.” He was the one built like a rectangle. Emmy lowered her voice so the kids wouldn’t overhear. “Not quite right? Is he autistic?”
“Brain damage. Missy was real young and the doctors didn’t do right by her. He damn near died from lack of air.”
“Oh, poor baby!” That was scary. Also a little foreign. If her family had nothing else, thanks to dear old mom, it was the best medical care.
“Yeah. Missy is a great mom, and Benji’s a dollbaby.”
“You said they were here, right?” She could usually talk video games with kids like Benji. It made them happy.
“Yep. All eight of them.”
Samantha groaned. “Eight. God, Tracy. Eight.”
“Wow.” Had she said wow already?
“There! Unca Poppy!”
They all looked and, sure enough, there was Coke Pharris in the field around the parking lot with two basset hounds on leashes, surrounded by an enormous amount of children.
“Mama, can me and Haley go with Poppy? Please?”
“I suppose. You watch your sister, Bubba.” Tracy pulled up close, rolled her window down. “Coke, love? The kids want you.”
“Well, what’re they doin’ in the truck then? There’s a spot saved for you, honey. Right up front. Between me and Coop.”
“Thanks, Poppy. Why don’t everyone pile out, and I’ll go park?” Tracy smiled, nodding at her and Sam to go on and get out.
She slipped out of the car. “Would you like me to take the baby?”
“Oh, honey, do you mind?”
“No. No, that’s cool.”
“Well, here you go.” There was a great unhooking of straps, then she had the baby in her arms.
“Hey, Cotton’s lady.” Coke grinned at her. “Ah, there’s our bullfighting boy.”
She grinned, then realized she didn’t even know the baby’s name.
“J.J.’s a baby, Poppy! Talk to us!” The older kids were tugging, laughing. Lord.
Coke turned to chatter at them, and she found out the older boy was named after Coke. She propped the baby on her shoulder, laughing and chatting with Samantha when a warm hand slid around her waist, startling her. Oh. Cotton. “Hey, baby.”
Oh, wow.
He was touching her. Out here.
“Hey, Emmy-girl. You get here okay? No troubles?”
He was smiling, his shirt all starched and pressed.
“I did.” She chuckled as the baby laughed and burbled.
“Is that Nate’s kid?” Cotton peered at the baby, making this amazing face.
“Yeah. He’s a sweetie.” She couldn’t stop staring at her cowboy. “You ready to ride? You look good.”
“I am. Got my good luck charm.” He kissed her cheek, which told her he meant her.
“Oo-hoo! Cotton! Introduce us!” A bunch of cowboys—mostly young—gathered around. Someone reached for the baby, and she blinked, then she saw that it was Nate Walker, the other bullfighter and J.J.’s daddy.
“This is my girl, Emmy MacGrew. Emmy, this is Kynan and Gar and that’s Danny and that’s Orren and this is Nate.” Cotton seemed tickled. Not a red ear or avoiding eye in sight.
“Hey, y’all.”
She got a couple of grins, a couple of nods, and one leer which had Cotton puffing up and growling. Cotton moved even closer, fingers tight on her waist. “Want me to walk you in, honey?”
“I’d love that.” She couldn’t stop smiling.
It was as if he meant it. He really meant it, that he wasn’t going to hide or be ashamed. It meant the world. Especially when they got inside and this big, barrel-chested cowboy stopped Cotton to talk bulls and Cotton introduced him as Troy, the chute boss.
That was like a big deal.
She was polite and smiled, shook hands and tried very hard not to seem nervous.
They got to talking, the boys, and Cotton kept a hand on her waist, held her right there. He patted her hip every so often, letting her know he was still there.
It took a little bit, but she relaxed, let herself lean hard into Cotton’s solid strength.
Somewhere in the next five minutes, a quiet, tough-looking dude with a scar on one cheek came over to stand next to them. He stared at her curiously, but wasn’t rude or anything. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand and a little smile on his face.
She offered him a smile, a nod, not sure she recognized him.
He smiled back, one eye almost disappearing in the eye lines. “You must be Cotton’s new girl,” he said, reaching out a hand to shake. “I’m Ace. I sorta run the show.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you. Really.” She shook, smiled. “And yes, I’m Emily.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” He was a shrewd one, she could tell. He scared Cotton silly, too. The hand at her waist was all sweaty.
“You’ve got a cool thing going. I follow Cotton on the web, the best that I can.” See her. See her make conversation.
“Yeah? As best as you can, huh? Is something not working?” Now his expression sharpened into real interest.
“It’s not that it’s not working—you’re just not on the edge. You’ve got old technology, and you’re missing markets. Your page isn’t phone-friendly. You could do some amazing stuff in the blog world, on Twitter. Hell, why isn’t there a video game? This is interesting, and your younger audience is tech-savvy, huh?”
He tilted his head, looking like a scarred up pitbull who’d heard a whistle. Then he shoved the sheaf of papers at, uh, the Troy guy and grabbed her arm, hauling her away from Cotton. “Walk with me. I want you to meet the guy who does the posting of the scores and shit.”
She glanced back at Cotton, who seemed a little panic-stricken, but followed along. “Okay. Sure.”
God, she hoped she hadn’t fucked everything up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Uh, Troy? Ace just took off with my girlfriend.” Cotton was just gonna lose it. Did she even have her ticket?
“I noticed that. Don’t worry, she ain’t his type.”
“What am I supposed to do, though?” Was he supposed to play it cool? Ace scared the shit out of him.
“Ain’t she the one that takes them sexy pictures?” At his nod, Tory shrugged. “Hope he offers her a job.”
“Yeah?” A job? Wow. That could be good, right? Cotton rubbed his hands down his jeans legs. “Well, if you want me to look at that bull, I’d best go have a gander.”
“Yeah, come on. And yeah, leastways until she starts having babies, huh?” Troy winked. Evil ass.
“She looked good with Nate’s baby.” His momma had already started planning a football team. She was very excited about Emmy’s brothers being big and tall. It was a little insane.
He went with Troy on down to check on the newest bull on the circuit. Damned thing looked like a Thundercloud grandson, which meant he’d be a jawbreaker. On the way, he grabbed Leah, the hospitality manager. “Hey, Leah. You see a gothy type girl with Ace, could you make sure she gets to her seat in the family section?”
“Absolutely. That your new girl? Love her hair.”
“Thanks.” His cheeks heated, but it was all pride. “She’s a hoot.”
“Cotton. Come on, son. I need you over here.” Troy was growling.
“Sorry, Boss. This one is going to be a bruiser.”
“You know it. Your momma says you’re looking to invest in a few more.”
“My momma called you?” Lord. That was embarrassing.
“No. Marie wanted her recipe for some damn jelly thing.” Troy rolled his eyes. “We got this fuckin’ tree in the back yard and you know how she gets… They were talking.”
Sometimes he forgot that his momma knew everyone. “Momma makes good jelly.”
“Yeah, well, Marie? She cooks like Beau Lafitte.”
“Oh, man.” That was…wow. Beau’s gumbo could strip paint.
“Tell me about it. So, interested?”
“Yeah. Yeah, if I can look at him buck.” You could tell a lot just from one ride. He had to have passed muster to get this far, but Cotton still wanted to see the monster move.
“Hell, son. You drew him for the first round. You’ll do more than look.” Oh. Asshole.
“Thanks.” Chuckling, he clapped Troy on the shoulder. “I guess I need to get on back with all the other not-old-and-retired riders.”
“You know it. You might rescue your woman, too. Looks like the Gardner clan’s got hold of her.”
“AJ?” He craned his neck. Ah. Missy and the kids. Cotton didn’t know them real well, but he liked them.
Emmy was kneeling down, showing the one sickly boy something.
Cotton didn’t realize Troy had gone quiet until he glanced up to see the man smiling at him in a knowing way. His cheeks went hot again. “Yeah, yeah. I got it bad.”
“It’s the way of the world, son.”
“It is, huh? I’ll go tell her to have fun.” He headed off, intent on getting a little kiss before he had to go ride.
Ace grabbed his arm before he got to her, though. “Smart girl. You gonna marry her?”
“Uh. I already had to not ask her twice.” He just blurted it out, Ace scaring the pants near off him.
“Good deal. I’m thinking about offering her a job. That gonna be a problem, man?”
“Um. No. No, sir. She could use one.” He gave Ace a look. “Long as you pay her what she’s worth. She’s good at what she does.”
Ace arched that one eyebrow, then grinned, ear to ear. “Shit, it must be love. You got my word, Cotton.”
“Thanks.” They shook on it, and Cotton felt himself relaxing. Ace was just a cowboy, right? “I appreciate it, sir.”
“So do we. She’s got some concepts on her.”
“She does.” Cotton chuckled. “You got no idea.”
Ace chuckled, shook his head. “Get on, now. She’s watching.”
She was, too, eyes just twinkling at him and smiling that little smile that he’d come to learn meant that she approved, that she liked what she saw and that he was gonna get some tonight.
He sent up a little prayer. Lord, please don’t let the new head buster bust my ass or my head. Then he walked over to Emmy and took that kiss, right there in front of God and at least fifty Gardners. The applause that rocked the arena made them both blush, but it was okay. Shit, it was better than. Look at his girl, staring
at him like he’d hung the moon. Hell, yeah.
“You all set, honey? I got to get back behind the chutes for the opening.”
“I’m cool. Good ride.”
“Thanks, honey.” He grinned, feeling ten feet tall and strong as a rock. “Y’all take care of her, huh?”
“You got it.” One of the girls waved at him, then drew Emmy over, talking a million miles a minute.
Cotton chuckled, heading back behind the chutes. He only had one thing left to do to ensure that Emmy’s first real event was a success. Hopefully, Dillon was alone.
The bullfighters and Dillon were in the dressing room, mostly dressed and made up and shit. Cotton went for the left side of Dillon’s face, which wasn’t all done up yet. That way he wouldn’t muss nothin’. He smacked his fist into that cheek just hard enough to sting. He just wanted it to sink in a little. Dillon’s head snapped back, and the man stumbled some, going ass over teakettle over a bench. Coke Pharris’ eyebrow went up, eyes on him like a hawk’s, but Gramps didn’t move, not an inch.
Dillon popped up like one of them karate film guys, staring at him. “What the heck was that for, eh?”
Cotton stuck out his chin and his chest. “My girl is here. You made fun of her last time she came to an event. Made her cry. Don’t you say a word about her. You hear?”
Nate started chuckling, and Coke snorted. “Your gal ain’t the new sound person, is she?”
“No, sir.” He tried not to grin. Coke was making him feel silly. “She’s sitting with your wife, Nate. And Missy and Samantha. You just leave her be.”
Dillon nodded. “Okay. Heck, I make fun of everyone, Cotton. I’m sorry if I hurt her feelings.”
“She’s one of them witchy-looking gals, Dillon, but not scary, more…like on a poster.” Coke grinned.
“Oh, like a pin-up girl.” Dillon nodded. “Yeah, that’s unusual enough I probably would have picked her out. I’ll leave her alone, man. I promise. No more hitting?”
“Well, that depends on you.” Now he was really feeling like an idiot.
“Oh, shit, you might as well hit me now. I’ll be bound to do something stupid sooner or later.”
“Okay.” He did it without thinking, stepping up and taking a swing.
