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

by Amie Stuart

  “How long have you lived with our mother? I figured it was the quickest way to cut her off at the pass—and him too. “God only knows what she told him.”

  He slowly nodded and took another sip of his beer. “So, what’s wrong with your man being a redneck? Do you even know what a redneck is?”

  “I guess he’s more of a high-tech redneck, but he’s not mine! He’s...I...shit. I dunno.” I blew out a deep breath and started again. “He’s a womanizer, a flirt and my God, Nicky, look at me.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” He shoved the last bite of taco in his mouth and licked his fingers, waving a free hand in my direction.

  “Pork Rind?” I countered, eyebrows raised. He choked on his food, then coughed for a good ten minutes. I thought we’d have to call an ambulance. It was worse than my cookie incident.

  When Nicky finally calmed down and could speak again, he did. “Do you know why I like older women?”

  “Huh-uh.”

  “Because, for the most part, they aren’t hung up on all the stupid shit girls my age are, like what their friends think or might say. At least, not the ones I choose. They’re past all the little things and, frankly, you should be, too.”

  “I’ve gained fifty pounds in the last three years, That’s not little. Hello!”

  “So you think this redneck gigolo won't like you ‘cause you’ve put on a few pounds?”

  “It’s not that.” I hadn’t missed the admiration in Robbie’s voice just before I turned around.

  “Then what is it?”

  I shook my head and sipped my beer, remembering how Robbie’d begged me to have a drink with him and calm down. “I just left him standing there.”

  “Where?”

  So there I sat, nursing a second Corona, nibbling chips and telling my baby brother all about my seven month love affair with The Invisible Man. Surprisingly, he never laughed. Chuckled a few times but didn’t laugh at me.

  “You know, that’s actually kinda cool.”

  “It’s insane! You should hear how those women talk about him and how he flirts with the waitresses. Even a baby, for God’s sake. He’s like the school’s star athlete, and I’m The Pork Rind, Nicky.”

  “Shut up,” he growled with a frown. “I never should have started that. Now seriously, you got the chance to know a man totally based on internal stuff, assuming neither of you lied. That’s pretty rare, Sis. Do you think he lied about anything?”

  “No?” I shook my head, thought about it for a minute, and said more emphatically, “No, I don’t think he did.”

  “Well, the you he has feelings—”

  “Had.”

  “Has feelings for, is the real you. You didn’t lie or anything, did you?” He pushed the wrapper-filled tray aside and leaned closer.

  “No! Just about my weight.”

  “You lied about your weight?”

  “Sin of omission,” I mumbled over the top of my beer bottle.

  “Forgivable. Now what’s the problem?”

  “I can't.” I sighed and tried to find a way to explain it. “I fell in love with this man, this wonderful, kind, smart man—”

  “So how do you know he’s not that man you fell in love with? I mean, think about it. Life’s a big fuckin’ show, right? After living with Mom we should know that better than anyone.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to accept the fact that my baby brother might be on to something.

  “So, what you see in public is all just a big act. Everywhere. All the time. You’ve done it yourself. Been nice to someone you don’t know at some social nightmare Mom would make you go to and put on this big happy face. Maybe what you saw at the dancehall was that show, Sis. Maybe what he shared with you on the computer is the real him. So, I want to ask you something, and I want you to think long and hard about your answer. What do you know about him?”

  I sat there for a while and my thinking turned to sniffles. “He’s funny, and smart, and totally not...pretentious. He’s down to earth and knows tons about music, which I love. And he never really acted like a redneck online, not like he did at the dancehall.” I knew a lot—at least I felt like I did—but trying to sort it all out made my head hurt. “Can we go home now?”

  By the time we got back to the parental’s hacienda, the beer, scotch, tacos and heat had caught up to me. Nicky poured me into bed and left me to sleep off my overindulgence.

  When I woke up the next morning, the sun was just barely making its appearance in the eastern sky. I stretched and took in the pale green, pristine, professionally decorated bedroom. There were no posters, no dried mums pinned to the vanity mirror—no reminders that a girl had grown up in my old room.

  Where had my life gotten so off track? I know the world was a different place from when my parents were young, but the promise made to me as a child had yet to be fulfilled. You know the one:

  Prince Charming.

  Who, I was now convinced, was a fag in therapy. I mean honestly, did you see those hose?

  I giggled up at the ceiling. Seriously, they never said it, but the whole scenario had been implied throughout my entire childhood. Grow up, go to college, get your MRS Degree. Live happily ever after in your big white castle on the mountain, raising beautiful children.

  No wonder they call it a fairy tale.

  Judging from the size of my hangover and the rotten taste in my mouth, my life was far from fairytalish. I was out of here. I eased myself out of bed, showered and threw on clean sweats. I wanted to talk to Rowdy, okay needed to talk, which meant I had a date with destiny tonight, via phone, because I totally wasn’t ready for a face-to-face yet.

  Downstairs I found Claudine busy in the kitchen and fresh muffins cooling on the counter. “You’re leaving?”

  I didn’t linger, wanting to get the hell out of Dodge before Mom came wandering out, full of piss and vinegar after a round of high impact, ass-cracking aerobics. “I need to get on the road.”

  “Don’t wait so long between visits next time.” She gave me a hug and a thermal cup full of coffee to go with the cranberry muffins I snatched.

  “I wont, I promise.”

  BAD BOYS

  ROWDY COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes. The last place he’d expected to see Skye...Jade, he corrected himself, was here at the dancehall. In the middle of playing “Sweet Home Alabama” he spotted her standing at the edge of the dance floor, a frantic-looking smile on her face. He almost stopped playing just to rub his eyes.

  After the way she’d run off Wednesday night, he figured he’d never see or hear from her again. He’d hoped for a chance to talk, maybe figure things out. Or, at the very least, make sure she was okay, but she hadn’t been online at all, and he’d figured she really had gone home to visit her parents.

  Apparently, she was better than okay. Dressed in Levis and a white sleeveless sweater, she stood clutching one of the wooden poles that separated the dance floor from the tables. He could barely focus on playing the right chords and caught Jessa’s frown of concern. Messing up wasn’t normally in his vocabulary. Until Miss Jade Skye Ballard, that is.

  After the song ended, he’d mouthed “break time,” at Jessa, hoping she’d catch the hint. She had, giving him another puzzled frown. They’d only been playing an hour. So sue him.

  Rowdy unstrapped his bass guitar and set it aside, taking a minute to collect himself. He still couldn’t orient the two sides of Jade he’d been presented with. His saucy Skyebaby…and Miss Snooty Pants. He shook his head and slowly crossed the floor to where Jade stood, narrowly avoiding a collision with a couple that spun past to a Hank Junior song.

  To his further shock, Jade wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in close. He stared down at her and kept his own at his sides, wondering what in the hell was going on. Wondering if she’d had some amazing change of heart, or hit her head, or lost her mind or something.

  “I need your help,” she shouted over the music.

  Or something. “My help? You left me standing on the
Riverwalk. You didn’t even bother to hang around for any sort of explanation or to talk, you just left. And now you want my help?” he snapped.

  She hung her head and rested it against his chest, as Hank Junior segued into Tim McGraw. A slow song. And they were drawing stares. He pulled her a little further onto the dance floor and took one of her hands in his, wrapping the other around her waist.

  She raised her head and frowned up at him in obvious confusion.

  “We can't just stand on the dance floor yakkin’ all night,” he growled over the music.

  “Oh,” she mouthed, her eyes glued to his face.

  “Well?”

  “My mom is here.”

  He didn’t miss the panic in her eyes but continued to goad her. “What’s it to me?”

  “She...I’m sorry, Robbie! I’m sorry I left you there like that, but I need your help,” she pleaded. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

  He danced her into a corner and spun her out, tightening his grip as she stumbled a bit. Five minutes, huh? Did he dare? And why should he? What type of mom did Miss Snooty Pants have that could send her into such a panic. “What do I have to do?”

  “Pretend to be my fiancée. She thinks we’re engaged and she wants to meet you. Five minutes, I swear. That’s it…and…and I’ll never bother you again.”

  Engaged? Shock had him pulling up short as he forced himself to not laugh or yell at her crazy request. She had a hell of a lotta nerve. Surprise turned to anger as he started dancing again, unwilling to attract any more attention.

  Some perverse part of him made him want to punish her, watch her squirm a bit. He gave her his cockiest smile. “What do I get in return?”

  She studied him for a minute before replying, the fear obvious in her eyes. “Anything you want.”

  He danced her to the middle of the floor and pulled her close so they could talk better. Or at least that’s what he told himself as he wrapped both arms around her waist and tugged her close, unable to suppress another smirk at the feel of her full breasts pressed to his chest. “I want a woman to let me make love to her on the back of a horse.”

  She mouthed, “Oh my God,” before her head dipped, and he couldn’t see her face again.

  His lips twitched as he smothered the urge to laugh. She obviously hadn’t forgotten their discussion about sexual fantasies.

  She finally raised her head and looked back up at him. “For five minutes of your time? All you have to do is help me get rid of her.”

  “And at some point you’ll have to break our ‘engagement.’ I need a beer.” He dragged her off the dance floor toward the bar.

  She’d never agree. Skye might have, but not Jade. She was too much of a straight arrow. But if she did, he’d get a kick out of teasing her in front of her mom and watching her squirm some more. Jade tugged at his hand harder and harder as they neared the bar.

  He whirled around and glared at her, tired of her tugging. “What?”

  “Will you do it?”

  “Jade!” came a sharp voice from behind him. He turned and what he saw froze his blood. If he thought Jade looked haughty, she had nothing on the petite, well-preserved blond bearing down on them. He resisted the urge to shiver and wrap his arms around himself. She was just the sort of person he’d never had any use for. Self-important, contemptuous, smug. Someone who thought the world stopped and started with them.

  “Will you?” he shot back, even though it was damn near too late.

  Jade nodded vigorously and stepped in front of him, pulling his head down to hers. “She thinks we had an argument!”

  “Got it.” He brushed his lips against her cheek, for show, then straightened to face her mother.

  Mrs. Ballard was perfect, from her sharply pressed jeans that probably cost more than everything he had on, to her pale sweater set and pearls. She had Jade’s nose, and the same haughty expression Jade liked to use, but otherwise, he didn’t see much of a family resemblance. She weighed, measured and assessed him through narrowed eyes, and he got the impression she found him lacking.

  Not that he gave a shit.

  Two could play this game. He pulled Jade as close as possible and plastered the most loving look he could manage on his face as he leaned over and kissed her temple. Her soft hair tickled his cheek and she smelled warm and earthy, spicy.

  “Jade, I really don’t care to stay here any longer than necessary.”

  “Relax, ma’am.” He held up a finger and smiled before leaning over and hollering over Mrs. Ballard’s shoulder, “Kellie, honey! Bring me a beer, and bring one for my girl and her momma, too. Would you?”

  He bit his lip to keep from laughing. Now all he needed was some dip. Too bad Bo wasn’t around.

  Kellie, who stood over by the bar, where Jade’s mother couldn’t see her, wrinkled her nose and motioned for a brand.

  He caught Jade’s eye and said, “Bud or...”

  “Corona with lime.”

  “Ma’am, what kind of beer would you like?” he drawled. He smiled and waited to see just how much of a snob she was.

  She visibly cringed, not much, but she did and then shook her head. “I’ll pass.”

  Off the snob-o-meter. “Bud and Corona, please ma’am.”

  From her spot behind the bar, Toni frowned and gestured toward Jade’s mother. Explanations would come later. For now, all he could do was smile. And besides, he was kind of enjoying himself. “You gonna introduce us, Baby?” he asked Jade, giving her another squeeze.

  “Row...Robbie Yates, the Honorable Judge Trudy Ballard.”

  He tipped his battered Stetson and offered his hand, which she limply shook. Jade hadn’t even called the judge, Mom.

  My God! Her mother was a judge. Probably the hangin’ kind. Thank God Kellie swung by with their beers on the way to her tables. He definitely needed his now. He lifted both from her tray with a grateful nod.

  “Toni wants you,” Kellie yelled as she shifted back into high gear and cruised away, her red curls bobbing.

  He caught his sister-in-law’s eye and motioned for her to hang tight. She frowned at him and pointed at Jade's mother again. He nodded and repeated the gesture. Five minutes. All he needed was five damn minutes. She shrugged and moved on to her next customer, finally content to wait.

  He offered an elbow to Jade's mother. Judge Ballard. And resisted the urge to shudder. She frowned up at him.

  “We can talk in the beer garden,” he shouted, pointing at his ear.

  “Beer garden?” Her perfectly penciled in eyebrows rose.

  You would have thought he’d suggested a hayride. He swallowed hard, his smile starting to ache, and tightening his grip on Jade's shoulder. To his surprise, she slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed back.

  They made their way through the crowd to the beer garden, which had originally been nothing more than a large grassy area surrounded by a privacy fence. Years ago, Susie had put a playground at one end and landscaped the rest with shrubs, hedges and flowerbeds. Huge old oaks she’d refused to tear down when she’d bought the place provided shade in the early evening heat. He led both ladies past the crowd gathered right outside the double doors and down a bricked path until they found an unoccupied bench. He gestured for The Judge to sit, and when she did, he joined her, pulling Jade down on his leg. Might as well make it look good.

  “So, you’re marrying my daughter.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He beamed at her, then frowned as if he were really worried. “Or is it Your Honor?”

  “Ma’am is fine.” She crossed her legs at the ankles and sat primly on the edge of the bench, as if she were afraid to contaminate her clothes any more than necessary by sitting back.

  “Who are you? And your family, who are they? Where do you come from?”

  Her mother was a judge. His father had been a wife-beating alcoholic who drank up his paychecks as fast as possible.

  “I told you his father was deceased.” Jade’s grip on his shoulder increased and
he squeezed her waist. Rowdy could handle The Judge, even if she did leave him feeling more like white trash than a hard working redneck.

  “I’m asking him.” Her frigid tone could have iced over the nearby shrubs. Good thing he was the law-abiding type. The Judge was not someone he’d ever care to face in a courtroom.

  He could talk it up or talk it down. If he chose down, it’d be that much easier for Jade to “dump him” later on. “I’m from right here in good old Bluebonnet, ma’am. Jade's right though, he died when I was sixteen and my mother lives down on the coast. My sister’s out west, but her ex-husband’s family lives here, and they claim me.”

  “They claim you. How nice.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He set his beer on the ground and rested his hand on Skye’s thigh. Condescending bitch.

  Her eyes followed his hand, then met his gaze head on, but her expression never changed. “Jade’s previous fiancé is a corporate attorney—”

  “You mean the one who ran off and left her for the...entertainer?” he interrupted, biting back a snicker as she blinked in shock. Apparently, she hadn’t counted on him knowing about Allan the Alien—Skye’s pet name for him. “I’ve heard all about him, and I promise you, I won’t leave your daughter standing at the altar in tears like he did, ma’am.”

  “What exactly do you do again?”

  “This ‘n that. I play here on the weekends, and I help the owner out when she needs me to. Do a little ranching. I’m just a jack of all trades, I guess you could say.” He gave Skye a little squeeze, waiting to see what Judge Ballard would throw at him next.

  “Well, I suppose that explains why my daughter has no ring, doesn’t it?”

  “Jade's ring is being resized. It’ll be ready tomorrow,” he gleefully lied. She’d never know different. He gave Skye...Jade his most loving smile, still unsure why he was helping her. Oh yeah, she’d asked. He reached for his beer and took a sip, unwilling to look too closely at his motives—beyond having a little fun and his horse fantasy.