The Big Girl's Guide to Buying Lingerie: A Cowboy Love Story (Bluebonnet, Texas Book 4)

by Amie Stuart

  On my first pass through the Plus Size rack, I only came away with three choices. Not much of a selection if you were over a size sixteen, which was the downside to those deep discounts. The first, a frilly, gray paisley peasant affair looked like I’d dug in my grandmother’s rag bag for something to wear to bed. Worse, when I tried it on, the puckered bodice made my 40DD’s look like G cups.

  The second dress was solid red with white piping and resembled something from a 1940’s spy flick. On the hanger it looked great, really great, but on me, the dress clung to every lump and bulge. You could practically see the size stamped on my panties through the back. Either the damned thing was cut small, or my Milanos had done more than get me a date.

  I frowned in the dressing room mirror, giving myself a critical once over. There is no less forgiving light than the ones they install in dressing rooms.

  The enormity of what I’d done to myself, just how much I’d let myself go, hit home in a big way. My chin began to tremble.

  Letting myself go hadn’t just been about scarfing Milanos for three years, but about me, my mother, and my ex-fiancé. And, of course, my mother’s very high expectations. The only time I’d ever managed to meet those expectations was when I’d snagged Allan Reed, a hotshot attorney she’d invited home to meet my sister Emerald. Believe me, no one had been more surprised than I when he’d chosen me over her. After all, Emerald was a future lawyer, and I spent my days raising funds for a museum.

  Then I’d spent the year before my wedding growing my hair out so I could wear it piled on top of my head, envisioning long southern belle style ringlets. I’d had my long ringlets, alright, and hacked them off with a pair of 12-inch kitchen shears the day after Allan had left me standing at the altar. I’d stood in the bathroom I shared with my sister and hooted and hollered in the mirror with maniacal glee as I covered the pristine tile floor with an ocean of ebony hair.

  Emerald came traipsing in, a frown on her perfect pale face, and screamed bloody murder. Her horror had left me doubled over and howling with laughter. I’d even wet my pants from laughing so hard. Her screams also brought Daddy and Nicky running. I hadn’t been able to stop laughing until Daddy forced me to swallow two fingers of his best single malt scotch. My oh-so-perfect mother was nowhere to be found.

  Seventy-two hours later I’d quit my semi-cushy job, collected the last scraps of my pride and dwindling funds and gotten the hell out of Austin before Allan returned from St. Kitts with his new wife—the stripper who came complete with the required amount of silicon in all the right places.

  And here I was—now the proud owner of a fucking double chin.

  The makeup had helped, but what happened to the girl who used to spend her weekends water skiing and bike riding? She’d turned into a blimp. A blimp who had a date with the man of her dreams and nothing to wear. Sniffing away my tears, I glared at myself in the mirror.

  Suck it up, Chicky!

  BY THE TIME I was through, I’d gone over the Plus Size rack three times, tried on twelve dresses—even ones I didn’t like—and knew the girl working the fitting rooms by name.

  How could it be so hard to find something pretty, yet casual that didn’t look like a reject from a muumuu factory? Pants could hide many flaws, but so could a long skirt. And pants were out. Thanks to my big mouth, Robbie was expecting to see legs.

  The next long rack contained more business and casual clothes. An idea began to take form as I wheeled my empty basket around other Sunday shoppers, determined to walk out of that store with something! Again the pickings were slim, but I grabbed up anything with potential.

  A red wrap-around blouse in the hands of another woman caught my eye. She blinked at my snort of laughter. If she only knew I’d been debating how easily I could take her—and that blouse. Instead, I focused on the rack of clothes, patiently biding my time until she finally replaced the blouse and wheeled off, chattering to her friend and sneaking sidelong glances at me.

  Then I snatched it up, checked to make sure it was my size, and headed back to the dressing room. Despite the off-the-shoulder cut that meant I’d have to wear a strapless bra, I knew I’d found a winner, and smiled to myself in the mirror.

  Now all I needed was a skirt.

  FEELING AS IF my outing had been at least moderately successful, I headed home with my purchases and cooked an early dinner. I carried my grilled chicken and vegetables upstairs and ate at my desk while waiting on Robbie to show up. Then, in the middle of dinner, my mom called, making all the usual noise.

  Talk about an appetite suppressant.

  “Jade.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” One did not refer to The Honorable Judge Trudy Ballard, who had her perfectly coifed, honey blond hair retouched every two weeks, as Mom.

  “I’m calling to confirm about next week.”

  As if I were some sort of business appointment and not her daughter. “I told Daddy last night I was coming home, but...”

  “Good, we’ll make reservations at the club.”

  “Mom!” Unless one wanted her immediate attention, that is.

  “Jade Skye.”

  Retaliation. She knew I hated my name. Who would have thought my ultra-conservative parents would come up with such an off-the-wall name. Frankly, I thought my sister’s was worse—Emerald Rayne. Then what did they do? They gave my brother a semi-normal name, Nicholas Stone Ballard. Blarh! She could have at least made his middle name Bluegrass or Wind or something equally hideous.

  I gritted my teeth and slipped into the role of country club debutante. “Must we go to the country club?”

  “Well, where else is there to go, dear?”

  As if Austin didn’t have any other place to eat; though, technically, they didn’t live in Austin but Round Rock, located on the northern edge of the sprawling city. Much like Dallas and Houston, Austin had spread, like a middle-aged woman. “There are some nice places downtown.”

  “The club is fine and so much closer.”

  And so what if it was my birthday and I wanted a say so in where I spent it. I sighed and resisted the urge to scrub at my face like a pouty three-year-old.

  “When will you arrive, so I can have Claudine tidy your room?”

  She needed plenty of time to clear some closet space for me. After I’d moved out, the judge had confiscated my closets. Never mind that she had two walk-ins of her own. I’m sure, when Emerald moved out, she’d take hers and Tricky Nicky’s, too. The judge was a shopaholic.

  “Thursday around noon,” I replied after pausing to think about it a minute. I decided to hedge my bets, since I had no idea how Wednesday night with Robbie would go.

  “Fine, dear. Dinner at the club. Wayne will be joining us…and please dress appropriately.”

  With a click she was gone and I sighed, my eyes on the phone until it began to beep in my hand. With The Judge, it was easier to just keep the peace and let her have her way, and in exchange, I only had to see her a few times a year.

  But I hated the country club and all it represented. Like women not wearing slacks at dinner. Thus, her “dress appropriately,” comment. Furthermore, I hated Wayne Richards, my sister’s fiancé. He could have passed for my ex-fiancé, Allan’s clone. Oh, not in looks, Allan definitely topped him there, but Wayne was rich and a lawyer. Just what The Judge ordered.

  I disconnected the phone only to have it ring in my hand before I could set it down. What the hell could she have forgotten to harp on me about? “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ve been called a lot of things, Darlin’, but never ma’am.”

  I swallowed and exhaled slowly so Robbie wouldn’t hear me sigh. “Hi. I thought you were my mom calling back.”

  “You two must be close.”

  “Why do you say that?” I frowned, wondering where he’d gotten that impression. Mommy Dearest and I were anything but close.

  “You talked to her last night, too.”

  “Oh...no. That was Dad.” I’d forgotten. I did my best to put The Judge’
s infrequent calls out of my mind. “She called about my birthday. I think she’s worried I’ll chicken out or something.” It wasn’t like she actually missed me. The only time she ever called was for holidays to ensure my presence for “Grand Performances.” Out of sight; out of mind. Just the way we both liked it.

  “Speaking of chickening out—”

  “Did you change your mind?” I cringed at the thought of all the money I’d spent on makeup and girly paraphernalia today.

  “Never, you?”

  “No way.” I was a lying dog. I’d changed my mind at least a dozen times in the last hour alone.

  “See, now that I can call you, I don’t have to hunt and peck anymore.”

  “So I don’t get any more late night emails?”

  His chuckle came across the phone lines as a deep rumble, and I sank a little lower in the chair and sighed. But as much as I enjoyed the sound of his voice, it just wasn’t the same.

  The freedom of anonymity was now gone.

  “What were you doing up so late?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” I poked at my now cold dinner with a fork.

  “Should have turned on your IM, I would have talked to ya, Baby.”

  “I took a warm shower.” I should have taken a cold one. Shower massagers weren’t just for a sore back, but it sure hadn’t helped last night.

  “So did I.” He chuckled again, almost a sly sound, and for a second, I wondered if he’d read my mind. If he knew I’d masturbated, or maybe he had. I voted for silence and waited to see what he’d say next. “Did you decide which little black dress to wear?”

  “Which?” As if I could even find one.

  My messenger screen popped up with a little winking face in it. “Surely my Skyebaby has more than one little black dress,” he murmured.

  “Of course.” Four, and none fit.

  “That’s what I thought. Wear the shortest one so I can see your pretty legs.”

  “So you’re a leg man. I though you were a breast man, Robbie honey.” I grimaced as the slightly bawdy words flew out of my mouth, but his laughter filled my ear. Being myself out loud was much harder than being myself online.

  “I don’t discriminate.”

  I sighed. Years of water skiing and tennis had left me with well-shaped legs, and I cursed myself now for all the bragging I’d done about them. I’d have to find one hell of a skirt.

  How he could not sound nervous, I had no clue. But he teased and flirted and sent me smiley faces and leering faces via instant messenger. “So, what was that about all talk and no action?”

  Oh Gawd! I’d sent that e-mail before we’d agreed to go out. “I guess you’ll get to put your money where your mouth is soon enough, huh?”

  “I can’t wait.”

  If anything, I slid lower in my chair, suddenly hot and flushed. Truth be told, neither could I.

  BLOW OUT THE CANDLES

  ROWDY HUNG UP, glad she’d seemed to finally loosened up some. Even after they got off the phone, Rowdy and Skye stayed up until midnight talking on IM and bantering back and forth on the list and in private. The e-mails flew, and more than once, he found himself howling with laughter.

  He could tell she was still apprehensive about going out with him and talking to him. He didn’t blame her a bit. He felt a little nervous, too, but kept reminding himself that she was his Skyebaby, and she knew him better than practically anyone on the planet. It’d all be fine.

  He had feelings for her. Was it love? He wasn’t sure. He’d never been in love, not even the typical high school crushes, though he’d come close with Susie.

  He’d never let anyone get as close as Skye had.

  Now, if only he could figure out what he was going to do with her.

  ROWDY MIGHT NOT have been the greatest housekeeper in the world, but he really did hate clutter, so Monday morning was spent straightening up the house. When he found six of Charlene’s letters stashed in the kitchen drawer under some dishtowels, he stood there slapping them against his palm, and debated throwing them away. Did she write Mom the same crap she wrote him?

  Considering he hadn’t talked to his mother in nearly ten years, he’d never know. He cautiously slid his finger under the flap, pulled out the letter and scanned it.

  Dear Rowdy,

  I send you blessings and peace.

  From the dark side, maybe. Trash. He wadded the letter up and pitched it in the plastic garbage bag beside him then tore open another.

  Dear Rowdy,

  I know you’re not a father but happy Father’s Day anyway. I’d like to spend this letter like I spent my day. Talking about Daddy. Reverend Jennie says

  Daddy wasn’t worth wasting a second on, let alone a day. Trash. Five pages of drivel joined the last letter. The postmark on the third one caught his eye. It had arrived after Tim and Toni took Rene to California for spring break.

  Dear Rowdy,

  Happy Easter and many blessings to you. I had the most amazing visit with Tim and Rene. I can’t tell you the peace that fills my mother’s heart and gives me hope. I’ve prayed and prayed just like Reverend Jennie said to, but never imagined he’d actually bring her to see me. I’m ashamed she saw me here, like this, but she said not to be. He’s done such an amazing job with her.

  No thanks to her. Rowdy snorted but read on.

  I feel so guilty for how I let Rene down and everything I put Tim and Rene through. His new girlfriend is wonderful and I can see they’re very much in love. I can't tell you how much peace this too brings me, seeing him so happy. I know my time with him is over but he’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

  I get out of jail next summer. Tim said he’ll help me move back to Bluebonnet. My life is so good!

  There was nothing good about being in prison, or having a felony record that would follow her for the rest of her life, or living in a town where everyone knew your every sin. No wonder she got saved, she didn’t have anything better to do. At least if she conformed to God’s house, she had someone to talk with.

  Trash.

  He didn’t bother reading the other three. Instead, he spent the afternoon working on Rene’s computer and his evening chatting with Skye, but it wasn’t the same. And he couldn’t bring himself to tell her why. Sister Revered, Charlene’s Holy Roller pap, had soured his mood so much, he called it an early night.

  WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON ROWDY met the band at the bar to run through some new songs. He grinned as he stalked past Jade Ballard’s silver Lexus near the door, thinking of last week’s encounters with the chubby brunette. He’d only run up to the bar the previous Wednesday after Susie had begged him to fill in at the last minute due to a cat emergency.

  He’d watched Jade Ballard since she took over from the last sales rep a year ago. She’d always been very formal and standoffish, bordering on disapproving. She’d been so late getting to the bar last Wednesday, he’d done his best hick performance as payback, getting a real kick out of watching her poker up and talk all snooty.

  Too bad he didn’t dip, he could have kept a dip cup handy and really gotten to her delicate sensibilities. Delicate his ass.

  Jade had hated taking the liquor order from him, hated giving him her sales pitch and going over the latest sales fliers. She stood there in her navy pantsuit, looking down her narrow little nose at him, her thin lips pursed as if he was a gunslinger and she was some plantation owner’s daughter fearing for her virtue.

  Then to bust her at Target a few days later. He’d laughed about that for a good forty-five minutes and shared the experience with Susie, who’d scolded him. Susie adored Jade, for some god-awful reason, and was convinced she was shy, but Rowdy knew better. He knew her type. She was a first class snob; the type of woman he took even greater pains to avoid than the marrying girls.

  He walked into the cool, dimly lit building and paused before slipping into a thick Texas drawl. “Hey, hey, hey!”

  Texas had to be the only state where “hey” was recognized as a formal greeting.
It covered ‘hi, how are you and your family’ all in one simple three-letter word. But his jolly hello backfired and set off a round of crying from Hope, who was shoved into his arms.

  He promptly set to patting her back while a scowling Jessa stalked past him. “Just for that, you get to take care of her.”

  He caught Toni’s eye. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hope has an ear infection and Jessa was up with her most of the night,” she added, eyebrows raised. “She came this close—” Toni held out her thumb and forefinger “—to canceling practice.”

  He turned his attention to the baby in his arms. Her cries had turned to little hiccups, and she looked at him with an expression so sad he frowned and swallowed the lump in his throat. With a heaving sigh as the tension slowly left her tiny body. He kissed her warm forehead and gently rubbed her back until her eyelids drifted low and she sagged against his shoulder. He had an admitted soft spot for little girls that probably dated back to when Rene was just a sprout. He loved the two little girls in his life more than anyone, and would do anything for them.

  Jade studied him, eyebrows slightly pulled together, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was willingly holding a baby. He half expected her to slide on a lab coat and take notes. “I see your charm and charisma extend even to the younger set.”

  “How’s that tooth doing? Had to make any more emergency visits to the dentist?” he shot back with a scowl.

  Today she wore khakis, a pink t-shirt and some brown weave sandals. But in Target last weekend, she’d looked like she’d been rode hard and put up wet.

  Susie excused herself and disappeared into the office, frowning as she passed him. He gently set the now-dozing Hope in her chair and glanced at Jade, feeling unusually defensive. “Haven’t you ever seen a man hold a baby before?”

  “I just didn’t take you for the baby…daddy type.”