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

by Amie Stuart

  Her words brought him up short. He never knew she’d listened. Or cared. Rowdy nodded. “I play with Ty and Zack and Zack’s wife.”

  “Is Jade musical?”

  “She plays the piano. I promised her I’d teach her how to play the guitar.” Where had that come from?

  “Imagine all the musical children you two could have. What does she look like?”

  He chuckled, suddenly embarrassed at talking about Jade to his Mom, as if he were a kid and this was high school, not the rest of his life. Of course, most of his high school years he didn’t have a mom to confide in, just Tim. “She’s um...beautiful.” He gave Liv a sheepish grin and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “She’s got this pretty dark hair, it’s short, but sorta long in the front, and she’s got these—” he dug for the right word, “—green cat’s eyes, and um she’s kinda short and real...” Could you say curvy to your mom and not sound like a pervert? “Curvy.” His lips twitched, and he tried to ignore the heat in his face. No way was he blushing. Men didn’t blush.

  “You must really love her.”

  “I...I do.” He couldn’t even say the words, but he’d admitted to Liv he loved Jade? Rowdy nodded, wishing he could leave. He wanted this wrapped up soon.

  But still one question hung over his head. A question he needed an answer to as much as he needed Nona’s ring. “You left me. Why?”

  He struggled to keep his breathing slow and steady while he waited for her response. Liv drew away, unable to meet his eyes, and he resisted the urge to wipe his sweaty, clammy hands on his jeans.

  Joseph stood with a scrape of his chair. “I should go and leave you two to talk now.”

  “No, sit,” Rowdy barked, then started at the harsh tone he’d unintentionally used.

  “I think you should talk to your mother alone.”

  “Stay,” Liv said. Joseph slowly sat back down.

  Her fingers plucked at Rowdy’s hand again, and he resisted the urge to jerk his hand back. “I wasn’t a very good mother.”

  Rowdy stayed silent. He wouldn’t—couldn’t argue with the truth. She hadn’t been a very good mother.

  “I failed you. And Charlene.” She squeezed his fingers and continued, her words low and painfully slow. “Fear...is a powerful motivator.”

  “Is that why you wouldn’t tell the cops the truth?” He frowned at Liv, doing his best not to yell. He’d lived with Big Rob for sixteen years. He knew all about fear, and she’d left him hanging with his ass in the wind. “Why you let him press charges against me? Because you were afraid?” Rowdy angrily demanded. Now he did pull his hand away and shoved his chair away from the table, until it bumped the wall.

  Her response was more of a twitch than a nod. “Deathly afraid.” Then in a stronger voice she added, “At times being dead would have been a relief.”

  Her frankness took him by surprise, and he stayed quiet.

  “But I had hoped I could talk him out of pressing charges. That’s why, at first, I kept my mouth shut. We even had an argument about it the night before he died. Big Rob got so riled, the nurses made me leave.”

  The thought of his mother arguing with Big Rob surprised him, too. She’d never, to his knowledge, stood up to his dad. Argued, sassed, or even crossed—ever! “You argued about me?”

  “I wanted him to drop those charges, Rowdy. He knew it was unfair. Sheriff Townsend knew it, too, and talked to him about it earlier that day also.”

  “So, it wasn’t my fault? The heart attack?” he asked softly. Rowdy recognized the relief that filled him and slumped heavily in his chair.

  “Of course not! Your father was always wound so tight, it’s a wonder he hadn’t stroked out or had a heart attack much sooner.”

  “But then he died and you left me...and left me feeling like I was responsible...” He let his words trail off, let her fill in the blank and ticked off each slow second until she responded.

  “Is that what you thought? That your daddy’s death was your fault?”

  “That’s how you made me feel, Liv.” Rowdy clamped his mouth shut before he said too much; but otherwise, he didn’t bother hiding how he felt. Angry and hurt. And he knew she couldn’t miss it.

  Her face crumpled a bit, but instead of tears, she seemed to pull herself together. “I’m sorry. I was ashamed. For so many reasons. Not the least of which was the fact that I was too weak to leave your daddy. I’d done such a poor job of raising you, I felt like Tim and the Boudreauxes could take better care of you than I could. You were practically grown anyway, and I knew Tim would do right by you. You two were always so close.”

  “You were ashamed?”

  “At what a bad mother I’d been.” She leaned back in the chair, tears in her eyes.

  “But you were my mother!”

  “And I failed you. More than once. I can see how much that bothers you. If it’s any consolation, it bothers me a whole lot more. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you down.”

  “I thought he was gonna kill you,” Rowdy explained, referring to the night of the fight.

  “So did I, baby. So did I.”

  DANCEHALLS ARE COUNTRY CLUBS TOO

  I SPENT THE REST of the afternoon straightening up. Cleaning was a necessary evil I suffered through, and as long as the downstairs was clean, I usually didn’t care what my room or office looked like. But with Rowdy coming around so often, and intimately, the least I could do was try.

  Then I cooked to burn off nervous tension over tomorrow night. It didn’t help much, but...While my chicken cacciatore simmered, I got Rowdy on his cell phone.

  “Speak,” he barked.

  “I cooked.” From the background noise, I could tell he was driving, but where in the world was he?

  “What’s for dinner?”

  “Chicken Cacciatore sound good? I was thinking I could bring you some, if you haven’t eaten.”

  “Sounds great. I’m on I-10, about forty minutes out. I should be at the dancehall around quarter to six. Meet me, I got the ring.” He sounded gruff and distant, and I frowned into the pasta I was stirring. Didn’t sound like his mood had improved any since he left this morning.

  “Rowdy, where in the world did you go to get a ring?”

  “Baytown. I’ll see you in a while.”

  He hung up before I could say another word.

  My God, he must have gone to see his mother. No wonder he sounded so bent out of shape! All I needed was a ring.

  The timer going off pulled me from my reverie enough to drain the pasta, but my mind continued to turn it all over while I ate and showered. I did the full makeup and put on a pair of Levi’s and a two-tone purple gingham blouse, grinning in the mirror at myself as I buttoned it up over my new black satin bra.

  I packed up Rowdy’s dinner—the cacciatore over fusilli, steamed broccoli with lemon-pepper butter, and a fruit salad of frozen berries, whipped cream and sour cream—and headed out. When I got to the dancehall, the parking lot was sparsely populated, but Rowdy’s Bronco was there, parked beside a newer model Nissan Xterra.

  Inside, I found a Boudreaux women’s convention in full swing. Everyone I’d seen Monday night was there—except for Mrs. Boudreaux. At Betti’s raised eyebrow, I held up my canvas tote bag. “I brought Rowdy dinner.”

  “Did you bring enough for everyone?” she teased from her spot behind the bar. Toni snickered and arched an eyebrow at me.

  I paused a second, then shot back with a grin, “Of course not.”

  She and Toni both laughed and Susie joined in.

  “Where is he?”

  Susie pointed to an oversized wooden door behind the bar. “Waitresses lounge.”

  She let me in, then motioned to a door halfway down the dimly lit hallway. “On the right.”

  The heavy door clicked shut behind me. The wood paneled hallway had the same cement floor as the entryway and was lit by only one bulb. The door Susie had indicated was cracked open. I gave it a nudge with my foot and found Rowdy dressed in his
usual broken in jeans and a plaid pearl-snap shirt. He sat on a ratty green couch, his feet propped on a coffee table that was probably as old as me. A small refrigerator hummed in the corner and against the wall, a small dinette table held an overflowing ashtray centerpiece.

  “What’d you bring me?”

  “What did you bring me?” I teased back while setting his dinner on the rickety table beside his feet. He sat up, his shoulders bowed. He looked...tired, worn. As if he’d walked from Baytown, not driven.

  I reminded myself not to let him push me away or bullshit me, as he reached in the bag for the cacciatore and popped the lid off. “Damn this smells good. Want some?”

  “It’s all yours. I ate before I left the house.” I pulled out utensils and the rest of his dinner and handed him a fork.

  “And didn’t wear a see through shirt. Nice to know you listen to me.” Rowdy took the fork I offered, his eyes never leaving mine, and sat watching me for a minute. I smiled at his teasing and at the slightly proprietary edge to his voice.

  “I wore black satin instead.” I wiggled my eyebrows and sat beside him, hoping I could get a smile out of him.

  He damn near hummed with tension. I reached up and rubbed his back, and he leaned into my fingers. “Eat, baby.”

  “Baby?” Rowdy glanced at me over his shoulder, then snapped the lid off the fruit salad. He jabbed the spoon in the dish, paused for a second and turned to me, pulling me to him. I met him half way and wrapped my arms around his neck. He held my head in his hands and kissed me, deep and hot, borderline painful. Then rubbed my nose with his. He was breathing as hard as a marathon runner.

  I gently pushed his hair back and rubbed his nose again, forcing myself to keep my tone light. “Yeah...baby.”

  I gently scratched his back until some of the tension finally eased from his shoulders and back, and he sagged against me.

  “I got your ring,” his muffled voice came from my shoulder.

  I scrambled for the easiest opening I could find. “You went to see...Liv?”

  “Yeah,” he groaned. He pushed himself up and looked at me, then pulled a velvet pouch from his shirt pocket. “This was my grandmother’s.”

  Rowdy pulled the ring out of the bag and took my hand, gently pushing it on my finger. A large emerald-cut sapphire with diamond baguettes on either side in what looked like a white gold setting. I was still stuck on grandmother. “Rowdy, you didn’t have to go to so much trouble. My God, it’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t want you to have anything less than the best for tomorrow night.” He kissed my hand, my usually flirty Rowdy nowhere to be seen. He was more serious than I’d ever seen him, and I couldn’t do anything but lean up and kiss him. The ring was even a near-perfect fit.

  The rest we’d sort out.

  “Care to talk about it?”

  His only reply was a heavy sigh. “Not really; not yet. I should be out there warming up.”

  “Then eat.”

  I sat and scratched his back while he ate, but we didn’t talk. Not really. He told me about his mom’s boyfriend, and how the three of them had spent a couple of hours talking but otherwise, he didn’t have much to say. I don’t think he wanted to look too deeply at what he’d done.

  And every once in a while a waitress would wander in, chat for a few minutes, and leave. Obviously, this wasn’t the time or place.

  Finally, he dropped his spoon into the now-empty dish that had once held the fruit salad and leaned back against the couch cushions. “You should make that salad for the barbecue.”

  I snorted with laughter at what hit me as such an off the wall comment after talking about the mother he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

  With one last kiss, Rowdy left me to go warm up. In the middle of clearing away our mess, I looked up at the sound of the door opening.

  “Hey, Betti.”

  She sashayed in, as much as she could sashay with her baby belly, and shut the door behind her. She was all business with her arms crossed and a grim set to her full lips. “Did you and Rowdy have another fight?”

  “No, huh-uh, why?” I wrapped up all the used utensils and stuffed them in the bag on top of the empty dishes.

  “He’s not himself at all and everyone noticed.”

  I stood up and looked at her. “So everyone assumed we had a fight and sent you to find out?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d sit, but that couch is just nasty.”

  “I think it’s older than my mother.” We both giggled, and I scrambled for what to tell her. “Rowdy went to see his mom today.”

  “My God, how in the hell did you convince him?” She crossed the room and settled on the edge of a dinette chair, her green eyes wide with shock.

  “I didn’t! I feel really bad, too. Everything I’ve done and everything you taught me has worked. But this whole engagement lie has gotten way out of hand. When my mom was up here, he told her my ring was being resized. It wasn’t—obviously. But my dad called this morning, and Rowdy accidentally answered the phone.” I collapsed in the chair beside hers.

  “Uh-oh.”

  The door squeaked open and Susie came in, shutting it behind her. “Y’all gossipin’ without me?”

  We giggled, and she joined us at the table. “So, what’s going on?”

  “He went to see his mom.” I grimaced at her from across the table.

  “My God, girl, you’re a miracle worker. You did what none of us could do. Tim’s gonna be tickled pink when he finds out.”

  I shook my head and briefly explained again about my father’s phone call. “I didn’t do anything, Susie. Rowdy did!”

  “You might not realize it, but you did. There’s no way in hell he would have gone to see Liv without some strong motivation. She’s gonna be here tomorrow, why should he?” Susie leaned back in the chair, a smile on her face.

  Tomorrow night was the family dinner from hell. “Rowdy won't be here tomorrow night to play!”

  “I already booked another local band for the weekend. Jessa wanted to be able to spend some time with her family. They haven’t seen Hope since her christening.”

  I blew out a breath of relief and explained about our dinner date with my family. “That’s why he went to see her.”

  “Lemme see.” Betti held out her hand and I rested mine in it. “That’s an awful damned nice ring. Why not just go to a pawn shop, buy one and return it when you’re done?”

  “He may not be able to say the words—still waters run deep—but ya done good, girl. You won,” Susie added.

  “Then why do I feel so crappy?” I pulled my hand from Betti’s and curled both in my lap. I’d pushed Rowdy into doing something that had brought him low. So what if he’d insisted, it was my lie that started all this.

  “Honey, don’t feel crappy.” Susie’s reassuring squeeze on my fingers didn’t make me feel any better. “Rowdy cares about you so much, he slayed his own personal dragon.”

  “Give him some time,” Betti said softly. “Maybe Rowdy’s like Ty. When he’s a little bent out of shape, he needs some alone time to kinda sort his thoughts out. He’ll be alright.” Betti lumbered to her feet and patted me on the shoulder.

  “Thanks...both of you. I think I’ll head home, too.”

  “Stay for a while,” Susie coaxed. “What’s your hurry?”

  I SAT AT THE BAR, nursing a Lemon Drop and chatting with Toni. I got to meet her daughter, an absolutely gorgeous brunette who looked just like her. And Toni’s twin brothers, handsome, charming blondes, but a bit too smooth for my taste. Too refined.

  On the band’s first break, Rowdy walked me out to my car. “Feeling better?” I squeezed his waist and smiled up at him.

  “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” He opened the car door, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave. I hugged him tight and rested my chin on his chest.

  “Come snuggle with me later,” I offered, hoping I didn’t sound like I was begging.

  “Mmm s’tempting.” He pressed a
soft kiss to my forehead.

  “Rowdy, I promise I won't bug you about today, we don’t even have to make love, just sleep. Besides—” I pushed him away with a grin, “—I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Alright. And thanks.”

  “Hush. And call me when you get close so I can unlock the front door.” I also made a mental note to myself to give him the extra garage door opener. I didn’t want Rowdy to think I was pushing, it was just a matter of convenience. Traipsing downstairs at nearly three in morning to let him in wasn’t my idea of fun, especially if I had to get up for work a few hours later.

  Just after 2:30 the phone rang, waking me. I let Rowdy in and, as promised, didn’t say a word after he showered and curled up in bed with me, but I could barely breathe with him plastered firmly against my backside all night.

  The next morning I left him sleeping, propping a note by the coffee pot with the extra garage door opener and left for work.

  “I SEE YOUR HIPS have a new rhythm, Chica,” Danny teased, following me down the hall to my office.

  “What’s it to you?” I grinned, pushing open the door and flipping on the light.

  “What’s his name?” Danny countered with a chuckle.

  I tossed my purse in the extra chair and pulled a sheaf of invoices from my briefcase while my computer booted up. “Who?”

  “The man who made you forget to bring me donuts. It’s Friday. I need my fix.”

  “Your wife will thank me,” I quipped.

  “It’s nice to see you happy.”

  “Thanks.”

  With a pat on the doorframe, he was gone.

  The day flew by, and I was never so glad to pull into my driveway. I found a note from Rowdy on the kitchen counter. He’d gone to visit with the relatives and change his clothes for tonight. He’d be back by five. Would I drive, since I knew the way?

  I raced upstairs, but came to a screeching halt at the sight of my bed...made...with all the little throw pillows in place and everything. Holy shit! I couldn’t remember the last time I made my bed and put all the pillows on it.

  “Hmmpf.” I threw my purse and briefcase in the chaise, then crossed my tidy bedroom to the closet. What to wear?