by Anna Jeffrey
“Hm,” Gail said, as they ambled toward the locker room. Once they were inside, Gail said, “That guy on the bench. I thought he wasn’t going to let me go over to the pool. Is he one of those security people?”
“Yep. Guess he’s going to be with me for a while.”
Gail frowned and shook her head. “That’s just weird. So what did Money Bags give you for your birthday?”
“Hah. Wait until you see it.”
At her locker, Amanda dragged out her purse. She dug inside, lifted out the tiny box that held the birthday pendant and handed it to Gail.
Gail opened it, stared and gasped. “Oh. My. Gosh. Are those real stones?”
Amanda made a tiny shrug. “I’m almost afraid to wear it.”
“Wow. Well, it’s not a ring, but it must’ve cost as much.”
Like a rotten egg, something dark and depressing broke within Amanda’s chest, leaving a dull ache. She shook her head. “Pic’s never going to give me a ring.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gail said. She leaned a shoulder against the wall as Amanda studied the pendant for a few seconds herself. The circle of diamonds that surrounded the heart made of red rubies glittered even more under the locker room’s fluorescent lights.
“Other than the loot, how was the weekend?” Gail asked.
“Great,” Amanda answered, stuffing the pendant and her purse back into her locker. She dragged out her street clothes and re-engaged the padlock. “How was yours? Did you go honky-tonking with Mike Norton?”
Mike Norton was a Double-Barrel ranch hand who lived in the bunkhouse.
As Amanda walked toward the showers, Gail trailed along beside her. “I sure did. Ate supper at Lupe’s Cantina.”
“How’s it working out with him?”
“Oh, he’s just another cowboy looking for sex. He knows I’m not interested in him in that way. He barely has two nickels to rub together. But he’s cute. And fun. Let’s face it, you’ve already got the only good catch in this whole county.”
Amanda ducked into a dressing stall, leaving Gail outside. “You won’t hear me disagree. But, hey, if it’s money you’re interested in, don’t forget Troy Rattigan. He’s a Lockhart heir just like Pic is.”
Amanda had always thought Gail and Troy would make a good match. With expressive gray eyes and long blond hair, Gail was more than pretty. And she was sweet and kind, qualities Amanda believed Troy needed in a companion. She had known him since kindergarten, knew his history. Though they had been children when his mother passed, Amanda still remembered how lost and sad he had appeared to be. She had always thought the poor guy hid his gentle heart with rowdiness and braggadocio.
“I’ve never met him,” Gail said. “But the people I know who have say he’s a player. He doesn’t even look at the women in Drinkwell. He goes for the bright lights and big city types.”
“He’s a sweet guy,” Amanda said. “But I think he does have a lot of girlfriends. And he does travel a lot.”
“They had a good band at the Bloody Bucket Saloon,” Gail said, her voice elevated. “I thought we’d run into you and Pic.”
Amanda peeled off her skintight swimsuit. She faced the full-length mirror on one wall and checked the hickey Pic had left near her groin. At home, she had been able to see it only with a hand mirror. Thank God for the privacy of the dressing room. If Gail saw an egg-shaped purple mark at the edge of her pubic hair, she would ask how it got there. Amanda believed without a doubt that Gail had never had sex the way it was with Pic. In fact, Amanda suspected that many women had never had sex the way it was with Pic.
“We didn’t go. Pic isn’t that enthusiastic about going out to a place like a honky-tonk with those security guys following us around. He never knows where they are or what they’re doing. Anyway, we stayed in and—”
“And did what?” Gail chortled.
Amanda felt her cheeks flush, but she laughed. “Well, it had been a long time since his last visit. A girl’s only human.”
“A millionaire and hot sex to boot. Life is so unfair.”
Amanda gave a silent sigh. She couldn’t have a conversation with anyone in Drinkwell without some remark popping up about how rich Lockharts were and how lucky she was to be Pic’s girlfriend. His being able to afford to take her anywhere she wanted to go was nice, but for her, his pocketbook held less interest than the good and honest man that Pic was.
Deliberately bypassing Gail’s remark, she turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature and at the same time, changed the subject. “We went up to Fort Worth on Saturday. We stopped by Drake’s house in Camden for brunch.”
“Oooh. Drake’s new house? I heard he paid a few million for it.”
Here we go again, Amanda thought. “I don’t know about that, but he’s remodeling it.” She picked up her shampoo, stepped under the massaging shower spray and worked shampoo into her hair. “It’s beautiful. Looks like something out of Better Homes & Garden. It isn’t as big as the Double-Barrel ranch house, but it has five bedrooms and if you can believe it, seven baths And he’s added on a mother-in-law suite.”
“Ugh. Seven baths? I hope they’ve got a maid to clean them. I hate cleaning the bathroom.”
“Shannon said the housekeeper Drake had in Metroplex comes down, but before the baby comes, they’re going to hire someone to live in.”
“Wow. How nice. Who lives in the mother-in-law suite?”
“Shannon’s grandmother. She’s an elderly woman.”
“So Drake got not only a wife and a kid on the way, but also a grandmother?”
“He doesn’t seem to mind. She’s a nice li’l old lady. She made us a great brunch.”
Amanda rinsed suds from her hair and body, then shut off the shower. “You’ll never guess who I heard from.”
“Hmm. Lemme see. Bradley Cooper?”
Amanda stepped out of the shower and grabbed her towel. “Sam called to wish me a happy birthday. He’s out of prison.”
Gail knew about Amanda’s life in her years away from Drinkwell. She even knew Sam. Gail had never breathed a word to a living soul about what had happened in Lubbock, but now, thanks to Betty Lockhart, the school superintendent, the high school principal and the school board had heard about it. Which probably meant that everyone who would stand still and listen had heard. There was no such thing as a secret in Drinkwell, Texas.
“You are kidding me,” Gail said. “He’s got some nerve. What are you going to do about him?”
Amanda continued to dry. “I want absolutely nothing to do with him,” she said more dismissively that she felt. “By the way, how did you know I was here?”
“You weren’t at home, so where else would you be so early in the day? I wanted to tell you something Mike told me. He was raving on about the girl that showed up at the Double-Barrel. And Pic’s supposed to be showing her around the ranch so she can take pictures for some magazine.”
Amanda caught a little breath and paused.
“Pic didn’t tell you about her?” Gail asked.
Amanda picked up her panties and stepped into them, a little tremble of uneasiness thrumming in her mid-section. “He mentioned her. What’s the big deal?”
“She’s super hot, according to Mike. On Saturday, while Pic was off in Fort Worth with you, she went to the bunkhouse with her camera.”
“Why that must’ve made Pic and Bill Junior furious.”
“I don’t know about that. She was wearing cut-offs and a barely-there bikini top, raising everyone’s blood pressure. Mike says she looks like one of those Kardashian women. She’s got long, black curly hair and Pamela Anderson boobs.”
Amanda stopped again and looked down at her own breasts. C-cup at best. She cocked her head and tried to envision the last picture of Kim Kardashian she had seen. Now her heartbeat had picked up to a noticeable patter. “Hm. Pic left out the gorgeous part. Hand me my clothes, will you?”
Amanda’s jeans, T-shirt and underwear appeared over the top of the dressing room doo
r. She dressed, then stepped out of the cubicle, went to her locker and pulled out her hair dryer, her mood growing darker with every second.
As her new short hairstyle began to take shape, her memory zoomed back to Friday evening’s conversation with Pic in her bathroom about her haircut. …It’s fine…. That was all he had had to say, which meant he hadn’t particularly liked it. She wished she hadn’t had it cut.
“Your hair looks cute,” Gail said. “Summery.”
Cute and summery. Ugh. Kim Kardashian was beautiful and glamorous.
“Of course, you know you don’t have to worry about Pic,” Gail added, as if she sensed Amanda’s dismay. “He’s so much in love with you he wouldn’t look at someone else, gorgeous or not.”
“He said his mother sent her,” Amanda said. “You know what that means.”
Gail gasped. “What is wrong with that woman? Why can’t she leave her grown kids alone? You’d think Mr. Nelson telling her off would’ve sent her back into her cave.”
Clyde Nelson was the Drinkwell school superintendent. Amanda’s thoughts zoomed back to early May when Betty Lockhart had tried to get her fired. The incident was still the talk of Drinkwell, as much as Drake’s wedding. After being put her in her place by the school superintendent, Betty had apologized to him, Bill Junior and both Pic and Amanda and they had all remained on speaking terms.
“I know,” Amanda said on a sigh. She pulled the pendant out of her purse and fastened it around her neck. “But Betty’s a frustrated soul. She couldn’t live with Bill Junior’s wicked ways, but she can’t find a replacement either. I suspect that’s a tough spot for a woman her age to be in. I think she’s lonely. So she amuses herself by trying to live her kids’ lives.”
“She isn’t exactly ancient,” Gail said. “What is she, early fifties? A lot of women her age find new men and rebuild. You’re too kind to her, Amanda. If she’d had her way, you would’ve been forced to leave Drinkwell to find another job. Your career could have been ruined. She’s so vicious. Even knowing the woman Drake married is pregnant with his kid didn’t stop her. She never seems to give up.”
“I know. Scary, isn’t it?” Amanda glanced again at the pendant in the mirror, touched it with her fingers as another image of Kim Kardashian took shape in her mind. Had Betty Lockhart done something that would succeed this time?
Gail glanced at her watch. “Oops, I’ve got to get going.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small gift sack. “I brought you something for your birthday.”
She handed over the sack and Amanda peeked inside, lifted out a wad of pink tissue paper and opened it. Inside was a pair of Brighton hoop earrings they had admired in a hotel gift shop when they had gone to a seminar a few weeks back. “Oh, my gosh. Those earrings.” Amanda leaned down and hugged her shorter friend. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. It’s a day late and it isn’t diamonds and rubies, but the sentiment is there.”
“You know I’m not a diamonds and rubies kind of gal.”
Gail laughed. “Now that you’ve got that pendant and with those earrings he gave you last year, you can practice being one.”
“Right,” Amanda said, touching the pendant again, and they laughed together.
“Well, I’m off,” Gail said.
“To Abilene?”
“Fort Worth. Dental appointment. I’ll be in the dentist’s office half the day.”
“Be careful driving. Every time I go up there, the traffic seems to be more congested.” They hugged and touched cheeks again. “And thanks again for the present. And the information.”
“No problem, girlfriend.” Walking away, Gail threw a grin over her shoulder. “I look at it as my duty.”
As soon as Gail cleared the doorway, Amanda sank to a bench in front of the lockers. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them away. She already suspected the woman with the flat tire was young and attractive. Otherwise, Pic wouldn’t even have noticed details about her, such as her eye color or her age.
An urge to talk to him gripped her, but she disciplined herself against calling him. She fervently believed that she and Pic had been able to stay together for so long because she didn’t chase him or pressure him. But she couldn’t deny being annoyed that he hadn’t told her that the woman with a flat tire was “gorgeous.” And that he had been appointed her escort.
Now her good mood was destroyed. Pic’s mother was definitely up to something.
****
As usual, Monday morning brought Pic a host of chores to manage and fires to extinguish, but loyal son that he was, at mid-morning, he was in the ranch house kitchen drinking coffee and chatting with Johnnie Sue while he waited for the photography safari to begin. He had been up since five, had eaten breakfast and gotten his tasks done in his office so that he and Zoshi could beat the heat.
After yesterday’s fiasco, he was determined to be more sensitive toward her and the challenges her personality presented. If she had always lived in the city, she couldn’t be blamed for being ignorant of life in the country.
Late morning came and he was still waiting. Now, he was losing patience again. “Dammit, I told her we should get an early start,” he groused to Johnnie Sue.
“Don’t complain to me,” the housekeeper replied. “I doubt if that princess has a clue that life on a ranch starts before daylight.”
Pic chuckled. “You’re probably right.”
“I got the whole story on her name,” Johnnie Sue said. “It’s Zoshamella Amelia McLaren. Zoshamella is a—”
Bong! The front doorbell chimed. “Hold that thought,” Pic said and tramped toward the door, his thoughts tumbling about her name. Zoshamella? Now he was confused again.
He opened the door to see her wearing a top that looked like a bathing suit, blatantly displaying her melon-sized breasts. Besides the tiny top, she wore short cut-off jeans that showed her navel with some kind of shiny object in it. Holy shit! Was this what she had worn to the bunkhouse on Saturday?
She was wearing the big hat with red flowers around the crown and those big black sunglasses that hid her face. But what difference did that make? Dressed as she was, who would look at her face? Her thick hair was pulled back and held with a clip at her neck. Big gold hoops hung in her earlobes. Pic willed his eyes back into their sockets and stood back for her to enter.
“Am I late?”
“Guess there’s no schedule,” he said as she passed in front of him, enveloping him with a fragrance that shot straight to an arcane place within him. He regrouped. “Uh, we should get going though. I’ll ask Johnnie Sue to throw a lunch together for us.”
“I brought my own lunch,” Zoshamella said.
Mystery solved. When she left the ranch last night, she must have gone to town to the grocery store. In the kitchen, Johnnie Sue gave her a bug-eyed look, obviously shocked by her wardrobe.
Zoshamella must have noticed because she said to Johnnie Sue, “It got so hot yesterday. I dressed for comfort today.”
Before Johnnie Sue could roast her with an invective, Pic smiled down at her and said, “I’m not taking guns today. This is strictly a picture-taking jaunt. If we see a hog, he can just consider it his lucky day.”
Still thrown off-center by her appearance and her scent, he started opening cupboard doors. “What have we got around here to make a lunch out of?” he asked Johnnie Sue.
“Some roast beef. I can make you a couple of sandwiches.”
Pic looked at Zoshamella. “You sure you don’t want a roast beef sandwich?”
Unsmiling, she lowered her sunglasses and peered at him over the top rims. She shook her head—one, two, three. “I rarely eat beef. Cattle are responsible for global warming.”
Pic heaved a sigh.
Johnnie Sue gave her an arch look. “Alrighty, then. Peanut butter?”
Hadn’t Johnnie Sue heard Zoshamella say she brought her own lunch? “She brought a lunch, Johnnie Sue,” Pic said. “Can you make a roast beef sandwich for
me? Maybe throw in a couple of apples or something?”
Without a word, Johnnie Sue yanked the refrigerator door open. She slammed together a lunch, then stamped into the big pantry and returned with a small lunch cooler and a thermal gallon-jug. She threw the lunch into the cooler and filled the jug with ice and water. The Lockharts rarely bought bottled water. They disliked finding the empty plastic bottles scattered over the range. Besides that, it seemed silly when they had perfectly good untreated water to drink from multiple drilled wells.
Pic definitely had to talk to Johnnie Sue about her attitude. She was supposed to cook, buy groceries for the house and bunkhouse and keep the household running. She was not supposed to react to who came and went. Though she had been employed only a short time, she behaved as if she owned the place.
But Pic didn’t intend to take the time to deal with it now. Today, he just wanted to bring this picture-taking obligation to an end.
Soon, he and Zoshamella were in the Jeep again, crawling over the pasture toward the mesa. With no more than a foot between them, her very presence surrounded him. Her alluring fragrance filled the Jeep. The image from yesterday morning of her delectable body wrapped only in a sheet had imprinted itself on his brain. That, combined with an abundance of her olive skin on display today, was affecting his thought processes. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever been near or seen in person and at this point, he had seen quite a lot of her. He felt a weird sense of intimacy with her.
She appeared to be nervous. He was nervous, too.
After a slow couple of miles of silence, she said, “Tell me again where we’re going?”
He pointed through the windshield. “See that long flat ridge? That’s what we call the mesa. In Spanish it means—”
“I know what it means in Spanish. What’s there?”
“A three hundred sixty degree view of the ranch. It’s scenic.”
More silence, more jostling and gear shifting. Finally, he said, “I’m still confused about your name. Johnnie Sue said it’s Zoshamella?”
She gave a huff of exasperation and turned her head toward him. Her eyes were hidden behind the bug-eyed glasses, but he felt a glare. “It’s Zo. Chee. Milka,” she said, exaggerating the pronunciation of each syllable. “It sounds like it starts with a Z, but it’s spelled with an X. And the middle syllable is pronounced with a CH. Not an SH.
