Taming a Texas Tease (Bad Boy Ranch Book 7)
Page 8
Emma couldn’t help feeling a little envious. She had thought for sure she’d have two or three cute babies by now. Instead, she didn’t even have one.
“How is Gray Dove, Reba?” Devlin asked. “I was surprised you came to the meeting. Newborns can be demanding.”
“You can say that again,” Reba said. “I haven’t had more than three hours sleep a night since that little imp was born. Which is why I couldn’t finish the book this month.”
“It gets better,” Devlin said. “I didn’t sleep at all the first few months. I thought writing out detailed schedules would help, but then I figured out babies don’t follow schedules.”
Evie laughed. “Neither do toddlers. You just have to go with the flow.”
“And there’s plenty of that,” Penny said. “Cash peed right in his daddy’s eye the other day because Cru didn’t get his diaper on fast enough. You should’ve seen Cru’s shocked look. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.”
“My son did that,” Raynelle Coffman said. “At twenty-seven, he still has trouble controlling his flow. He misses the toilet more than he hits it. I swear if that boy doesn’t get a job and move out, I’m going to toss his butt out into the cold.”
Raynelle had been talking about kicking her adult son out of her house for years, but everyone knew the softhearted woman wouldn’t do it. Her best friend, Luanne Riddell, wasn’t above pointing it out.
“No, you’re not, Ray. That boy could pee all over your house and you’ll never kick him out. And speaking of sons. I ran into Marty Rucker’s mama at bible study the other day and she told me that her son went on a date the other night.” She turned to Emma and lifted her dark penciled-in eyebrows. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Emma Johansen?”
She should’ve known that word would get out about her date with Marty. Gossip spread faster than fleas on a dog in Simple.
“I invited Marty over for dinner.”
“That’s exactly what Wilma Rucker said, but I didn’t believe her.” Luanne stared at Emma as if she had grown horns. “Why in the world would you ask Marty out?”
“Why not? I’m single, and he’s a nice guy.” And an annoying table drummer.
“But Marty’s not for you,” Raynelle Coffman said. “You’re supposed to marry—”
Luanne elbowed her friend before she could finish, but Emma knew what she had been about to say. She figured this was as good a time as any to set the town gossip straight.
“I know a lot of you have been hoping that Boone and I would get together because we were high school sweethearts. But that’s not going to happen. Boone and I aren’t compatible. Something we’ve figured out while running the hardware store together.”
“Now just because you get into a few fights doesn’t mean you’re not compatible,” Luanne said. “Bud and I get into some whopper fights and I love the snot out of that man.”
“Well, I don’t love Boone.” When all the women just stared at her, she repeated it. “I really don’t. I know I’ve led you to believe that I might still have a thing for him because I haven’t married yet. But I just wasn’t ready to tie the knot. I am now. So you’ll probably be hearing about me dating a lot. And I don’t know what the big deal is.” She looked at Luanne. “You dated lots of men before you married Bud.”
“That’s because I hadn’t met Bud yet.”
“Well, I haven’t met my Bud either.”
“Yes, you have,” Raynelle said. “Your Bud is—”
Thankfully, Jolene came to Emma’s rescue. “I think we should get back to the book. We haven’t rated it yet. Let’s start with Sadie.”
They went around the room rating the book from one to ten and Emma was relived that the topic of conversation had moved away from her. She should’ve known better. Luanne was not the type to let anything go.
“I give the book a five out of ten,” Luanne said when it was her turn. “While I loved the heroine and her cute little teashop, I was extremely disappointed she and that Englishman didn’t get together at the end. They had love and they didn’t fight for it.” She turned and looked directly at Emma. “And everyone knows that you have to fight for love!”
Chapter Nine
“Are you sick?”
Boone finished placing the boxes of fireworks he’d ordered on the shelf before he turned to Emma. It was Casual Friday. Something Emma had come up with in her need to organize everything—even the days of the week. She wore a blue western shirt, skinny jeans, and cowboy boots. He had always loved her in jeans and boots. Something he kept to himself.
“No, I’m not sick,” he said “Why?”
She’d curled her hair today and it bounced like waves of sunshine as she shook her head. “Nothing. You’re just acting weird.”
“Weird how?”
“You aren’t racing me to the door to wait on customers, for one thing. Or following me around annoying me.”
“I don’t follow you around. You follow me around.”
“I do not!”
He arched an eyebrow. “What are you doing now?”
She rolled her eyes. “You are such a jerk.” She turned to leave, but he stopped her.
“Em?” When she looked at him, he gave her a cocky smile. “Thanks for caring.”
“As if I’d care about you. And those fireworks are not going to sell. Everyone buys their fireworks in the big tents in Abilene or Austin.”
“Fireworks are like toilet paper. You can never have enough. And I can guarantee that they will sell better than that canary-yellow exterior paint you insisted on ordering because you were convinced people needed a change from painting their barns red.”
“It’s not my fault the townsfolk are set in their ways. But someone is going to buy that paint. And once everyone see how pretty yellow looks on a barn, we’re going to have a run on canary-yellow paint and you’ll have to eat your words, Boone Murphy. And speaking of eating, I’m going to lunch.” She sashayed down the aisle and out the front door.
When she was gone, Boone let his smile slip as he straightened the boxes of fireworks. She was right. He was acting weird. Probably because he felt weird. His parents had left town three days ago. He knew they’d be back to close on their house and settle the situation with the store, but the reality of them moving from Simple for good had finally sunk in.
It made him sad. But at the same time, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The pressure of keeping his secret from his father and mother—and even the Murphys—was suddenly gone. He didn’t feel the responsibility of holding all their lives together. He should be relieved, but he wasn’t. Without the responsibility, he felt a little . . . lost. Like the emotional train he’d been riding for so long had suddenly come to a stop and he didn’t know where he was.
Or even who he was.
He’d always been Dean and DeeDee Murphy’s son who worked at the hardware store. If Emma ended up winning the store—and she was certainly putting all her efforts into it—who would he be? The question had been rolling around and around in his head for days. He had yet to come up with an answer.
The bell over the door jangled, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to see Luanne Riddell and Raynelle Coffman entering the store.
“Mornin’, ladies,” he said. “If you’re looking for Emma, she went to lunch.”
“We didn’t come to see Emma,” Luanne said. “We came to talk to you, Boone Murphy.” She sounded ticked, and he tried to figure out why. He was always polite to Luanne and had gone fishing with her husband, Bud, on more than a few occasions. Maybe she was mad about that. Some wives didn’t like their husbands hanging out with single men.
“What can I help you with, Luanne?” he asked.
Luanne put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Did you know that Emma is husband huntin’?”
His eyes widened. Emma had told the two biggest gossips in Simple about their bet? What was wrong with her? He thought they were trying to squelch the
gossip, not add to it.
He cleared his throat. “She did mention something about going on a date with Marty Rucker.”
“And you didn’t try and stop her?”
“It’s not really my place to stop her.”
Raynelle and Luanne exchanged looks before Luanne spoke. “This is going to be harder than we thought, Ray.”
“It sure looks that way, Lulu,” Raynelle sent Boone a sympathetic look. “We know the truth, Boone. We know you love Emma.”
His stomach took a sudden dip, but he hid his reaction behind a smile. “Now, ladies, I know women love a happily ever after, but you’re wrong. Emma and I can’t even be in the same room together without fighting.”
“Everyone knows that’s just foreplay,” Raynelle said. “And if you don’t pull your head out of your butt, you’re going to lose that girl before you can get to the sex. Last week at the book club, it was clear that Emma’s biological clock has started ticking. You should’ve seen her face when all the ladies were talking about their sweet little babies.”
He didn’t doubt that Emma had been hanging on every word. She had always loved babies. When they were kids, she’d talked about having seven and naming them after the days of the week. In high school, she’d narrowed the number to four and had picked less unusual names to put on her long list. He couldn’t remember any of the names except for two. Michael Dean, after their fathers and Gina Dee, after their mothers. Boone had shared her dream of babies named after their loving parents . . . until the dream got tainted and blurred.
“Who doesn’t love babies?” he said. “Now if you ladies don’t need any help, I’ve got some inventory to stock.”
“That’s it?” Luanne said. “You’re just going to let Emma marry someone like Marty Rucker?” She snorted. “That boy has never had a brain in his head or a dollar in his pocket.” She leaned closer and pointed a finger at Boone, rattling the multitude of beaded bracelets on her wrist. “Because take my word for it, Boone Murphy, when a girl is in breeding mode, she’ll take any bull that struts into the pasture.” The front bell jangled and Boone prayed it was Emma so she could corral her friends. But Luanne seemed to be on a roll. “Which is why you need to buy a ring and get to proposing. You don’t have any more time to pussyfoot a—”
“I think that will be just about enough.”
All three of them turned to see Miss Gertie standing there with Butler in the basket of her walker. Both the woman and the cat looked totally pissed off.
Luanne swallowed audibly. “Hello, Miss Gertie.”
“Hi, Miss Gertie,” Raynelle chorused. “You’re looking mighty fine today.”
“No, I’m not,” Miss Gertie snapped. “I look like what I am. An old woman who’s getting ready to kick the bucket. But I still have enough gumption to get after two gossips who have nothing better to do than stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
“B-B-But we just wanted to help,” Raynelle stammered. “Emma isn’t going to wait around for Boone forever. In fact, she’s started husband hunting.”
“And that’s your business why?”
Raynelle fidgeted. “Well, I guess it isn’t my business.”
“Darn right it ain’t. Now you two need to stop bothering Boone and get on back to what is your business.” Miss Gertie pointed an arthritis-knotted finger at the door. “Go on now. Git!”
The two women gave Boone one last look before they hurried out the door. When they were gone, Boone released a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Miss Gertie. You arrived just in the nick of time.”
She squinted at him. “Is it true?”
Boone played dumb. “What?”
“Is Emma dating?”
“It seems that way.” He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t approval.
“Good for her.” She scratched Butler’s head and the cat purred with contentment . . . while it continued to glare at Boone. “It’s time you two quit playing games that aren’t going to get you anywhere and move on.”
Boone flatted the box the fireworks had come in with his boot heel. “You sound like my parents. But sometimes moving on is easier said than done.”
“I can’t argue with that. Especially when you’re tied to a town through family and business.” Miss Gertie paused. “So I hear your mama and daddy are selling the store.” He wasn’t surprised Miss Gertie knew. His mother dropped by the boardinghouse often to get gardening tips from the old woman.
“Yes, ma’am. And I’m not happy about it,” he grumbled. “The hardware store has been in our family for years and they want to sell it to some stranger.”
Since Dixon’s Boardinghouse had been in Miss Gertie’s family for over a hundred years, he figured she’d understand. He should’ve known better. She was as contrary as they came.
“A business is just a business,” she said. “Something I learned too late. I wish my mama and daddy had cut me loose from the boardinghouse. Instead, they convinced me that an old building and my family heritage were more important than my own happiness. It took losing the man I love before I figured out the truth. By that time, it was too late.”
Everyone in town knew the story of Miss Gertie and Lucas Diamond, one of the brothers who ran the Double Diamond ranch. Years ago, Miss Gertie and Lucas had fallen in love. But when the young rodeo cowboy had asked Miss Gertie to marry him and come on the rodeo circuit with him, she’d turned him down flat. She’d chosen the boardinghouse over love. Years of hurt feelings had kept the couple apart, but just recently they had gotten back together.
“You’re together now,” Boone said.
“Now being the operative word. We wasted a lot of years and will only have a short time together.”
Suddenly, Boone remembered that Miss Gertie’s doctor’s appointment had been that morning. “Did the doctor find something?” he asked with concern.
She shook her head. “Nope. He said the exact opposite. He said I’m as healthy as a horse.”
“That’s great news.”
“Says a young man who doesn’t wake up every morning with so many aches and pains you don’t know where one stops and the other begins.” She stopped petting Butler and stared back at him with her piercing eyes. “I know it’s hard to move on, Boone. I know it feels so much more comfortable to stay in the place you’re familiar with. But take some advice from an old gal who knows. If you can’t move, you’ll become just like standing water—putrid and stagnant.”
“So you think I should let the store go and leave Simple?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying that you shouldn’t let this store be your purpose for living. It’s just a building. It can’t make you happy.”
“Maybe I’m still waiting for what will.”
Miss Gertie sighed. “Then that’s your problem. Happiness doesn’t find people. People find happiness. Get off your butt, Boone Murphy, and go find yours. Now where is that cross you promised me?”
He was so stunned by Miss Gertie’s blunt wisdom that it took him a moment to answer. “I haven’t started it yet, Miss Gertie. Now it sounds like there’s no hurry. And I’m glad. This town needs you.”
A slight smile tipped the corners of her wrinkled mouth. “I’m glad you want to keep me around, Boone. But this town doesn’t need me. It was here long before me and it will be here long after. I made my mark while I was here—and I’m not talking about the boardinghouse. Have you seen my sweet little great-great-niece Gray Dove Gertrude Sterling? Now that’s a legacy to leave behind.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “And speaking of Gray, her morning naptime is almost over so I need to be on my way.” She pointed a crooked finger at him. “You finish that cross for me, Boone Murphy. You hear me?”
As much as he didn’t want to do it, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
He held open the door for her. On her way out, Val came walking up. “There you are, Aunt Gertie. I thought you wanted me to pick you up at the Simple Hair Salon. When you weren’t there, I got worried.”
“No need to worry about me. I just stopped by the hardware store for some . . . picture-hanging hooks. But they seem to be out of them.” She glanced at Boone. “I hope you’ll get what I want in soon.”
“I promise I’ll work on it, Miss Gertie.”
“Hey, Boone.” Val shook his hand. “How are you doing?”
“Not as good as you are. Every person in town seems to be talking about how cute your new daughter is.”
Val grinned from ear to ear. “Gray is the most precious gift I’ve gotten in my life . . . besides her mama.”
“I notice you don’t say that after you’ve spent a sleepless night walking the floors with your daughter,” Miss Gertie said.
Val laughed. “You do have a point.” He glanced at Boone. “Speaking of daughters, Aunt Gertie told me you hired Cal’s. How’s Cheyenne working out?”
“She’s doing great. She’s one hardworking kid, just like her daddy. Although I wish Cal would’ve just taken a loan from me so neither he or Cheyenne would have to work so hard and could spend more time together.”
Val nodded. “I offered him one too, but he refused.”
“He’s prideful,” Miss Gertie stroked Butler’s head. “He wants to start his business on his own. And I get that.” Her aged eyes narrowed. “That old codger Otis Applegate should’ve given him the loan.”
“I heard Jolene was the one who turned him down flat,” Val said.
“Only because her daddy rules over that girl like a dictator.” She shook her head. “I’m all for respecting your parents, but parents need to also respect their kids. I’m sure Jolene would’ve given Cal his loan if not for her old goat of a daddy.”
Boone wasn’t so sure. Jolene seemed as serious and unbending as her father. He could usually tease a smile out of every woman in town, but he’d yet to get one from Jolene.