Hot Texas Sunrise

by Delores Fossen

  “Wait here while I run in and have that word with the principal,” Judd said, opening his truck door.

  “If you know what me and my brothers have been through, then you know I can’t take them back to the piss witch,” Beckham announced before Judd could leave.

  “Agreed.” Judd was about to launch into an explanation of why that wouldn’t happen, but Beckham continued.

  “And you know they’ll end up trying to put the three of us in separate homes. No one will want to take me because of the juvie shit.”

  “Stuff, not shit,” Judd automatically amended.

  “Stuff,” Beckham repeated in the same tone he’d used with the profanity. “I need to be with my brothers if something bad goes down.”

  Judd found it hard to argue with that. If he’d been with Callen and Nico, they wouldn’t have nearly been killed. It was a lot of emotional weight on his shoulders, and Beckham was feeling that weight, too.

  Beckham looked him straight in the eyes. “If the temp custody thing with Kace doesn’t work out, then I want you to hide Isaac and Leo. Hide them some place where they won’t be hurt.”

  Judd groaned and shook his head, but Beckham caught onto his arm.

  “Promise me you’ll do it, and I won’t run,” Beckham insisted. He blinked hard, as if fighting tears. “In fact, I’ll do anything you ask. Just swear to me that you won’t let someone take them.”

  Judd knew what he should say—that he couldn’t make a promise like that. But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “I swear,” he agreed.

  And he meant it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CLEO SIGHED WHEN she saw the sign for her bar. Someone had blacked out the g again so that it read Angry Anus. This was the third time, and while she figured the security cam would have captured the vandal with the fourth-grade sense of humor, it would take time to ID the person and then file charges.

  Time that Cleo didn’t have.

  “I was going to call and tell you,” Daisy said. She was standing in the bar’s doorway, looking up at the sign. “But I figured it could wait.”

  Yes, it could wait, and it wasn’t going to distract her or spoil her mood. Cleo had too much to do, what with catching up on paperwork and the meetings for the final details on not one but two bachelorette parties. She needed to stay positive. Also needed to keep her mind off the visit from the social worker that Kace should be having at this very moment.

  “Maybe we should just keep the name,” Daisy suggested. “Angry Anus is kind of catchy and it has an ‘in your face’ attitude that could hit the right note. We could even come up with bar snacks to complement it. Cow-pie sliders. Backside dip.” She frowned. “Or not.”

  Cleo was going for the “or not” on the snacks because she didn’t think customers would appreciate eating anything that reminded them of that particular part of the cow anatomy, but she might keep the name only to prevent her from having to report future vandalism and pay the painter to fix the sign. Again.

  Daisy squinted one eye while she studied Cleo as they went inside. “You look—” Daisy made a humming sound of contemplation “—stressed.”

  “That’s because I am.” But the moment Cleo admitted it, she wished she hadn’t. Voicing it wouldn’t help, and it only added worry lines to Daisy’s forehead.

  “That’s too bad,” Daisy concluded. “I mean, I figured the boys would be causing you to worry, but I was hoping Judd the Stud would help with that.”

  Oh, he had. That magical kiss had indeed helped, but it had then given Cleo the mother lode of erotic dreams. Like poorly named bar food, that wasn’t a good thing. Not when she didn’t have an outlet to cool the heat from the dreams. Judd was avoiding her, she was certain of that, and even if he hadn’t been, it wasn’t as if she’d had time for any heat-cooling.

  Cleo stopped in the entry and had a look around. Even though it’d only been two days since she’d been here, it was still the longest she’d been away from the place since she’d bought it. She wished that she felt centered here, instead of worrying because she wasn’t with the boys. She was certain that she’d have to find some kind of balance for that. After all, generations of parents before her had worked and raised children and so could she.

  “The cows are gone,” Cleo said after another glance around, and this time she didn’t have to think about forcing a smile.

  Daisy smiled, too. “Tiny and some of his buds moved them into the back alley for trash pickup. We took out the one in your office, too.”

  Cleo’s smile widened while she continued to look around. There’d been some new additions to the Stupid Sh*t Men Say board.

  Labor can’t hurt THAT bad.

  I know a good way to burn off the calories in that wine.

  The next one she recognized from a recent text she’d gotten, one that Cleo had shared with Daisy, who’d no doubt then chalked it on the board for everyone to see.

  You stay madder about things than my last girlfriend.

  The final entry was “I figured since you took this long to get dressed that you’d look hotter than you do.”

  Apparently, men and the stupid things they were saying would continue to keep the customers entertained.

  “It was packed last night,” Daisy continued, following Cleo when she headed for her office. “But we had it covered. The new waitress is working out.”

  There it was again. A hit of happy-centeredness quickly followed by worry because she hadn’t been there. “I really appreciate all the extra hours you’re putting in,” Cleo told her. “How’s Mandy Rose?”

  “Good. My mom’s helping out. What about the boys? How are they adjusting at the ranch?”

  Cleo would have given Daisy a glossed-over version of an answer, but when she went into her office, the first thing she saw was a naked cowboy butt. The sight was enough to stop conversation but not in a “fan yourself and go all hot” kind of way. Though as butts went, it was impressive. She just couldn’t figure out why it was in her office.

  “Isn’t that the best ass you’ve ever seen?” someone asked.

  Cleo spotted the asker, Tiffany Wainwright, and her maid of honor, Monica Sanders, who were both ogling the cowboy, who thankfully wasn’t completely nude. He was shirtless and wearing no jeans or underwear, but he did have on a Stetson, boots and chaps. On closer inspection, Cleo noticed that the chaps had a strategically placed leather flap over the cowboy’s crotch.

  “It’s impressive,” Cleo agreed. She glanced at Daisy for an explanation of what was going on, but Daisy just shrugged.

  “I must have been in the back when they came in,” Daisy said.

  “She was.” That from Tiffany, who was now running her hand over the cowboy’s right butt cheek while she glanced up at Cleo.

  “The bartender said you’d be in any minute so we brought Harry back here. Tiffany and I wanted you to see him so you could put him on stage for the bachelorette party.”

  As if responding to a cue, Harry began to jiggle his butt, but since he had very tight muscles there, it was more of a jerk than a jiggle.

  “Best ass ever,” Monica declared.

  Well, he was significantly better-looking than the guys she’d hired, but Cleo wondered if the bride’s familiarity with Harry’s butt was going to cause some problems. Not with some potential hanky-panky between the two—though judging from the way she was stroking him, that was a strong possibility—but because stroking him like that in front of other guests might lead to some legal trouble.

  “I’ve already hired the crew for that,” Cleo explained to the bride, “and you approved the contracts so I won’t be able to just cut them. Maybe Harry could do a private show for Monica and you before the start of the actual party? Perhaps at your house, or Monica’s?”

  Tiffany’s eyes brightened, and both women nodded. Then Tiffany frowned and nibbled on her
lip. “But if anyone else asks, Harry is just one of the dancers for the party. Okay?”

  Now it was Cleo’s turn to nod. Oh, yes. There’d be hanky and probably quite a bit of panky, but since it wouldn’t be happening under the roof of the Angry Angus, Cleo didn’t care.

  “Now, I just need you to go over the final menu for the party food,” Cleo said, taking out the forms. “And I’ll need the last payment.” She got out the contract for that as well, but before Tiffany could even get her hand off Harry’s butt, Cleo’s phone rang.

  “It’s Judd,” Cleo whispered to Daisy, and she excused herself to go into the hall for some privacy. Harry must have taken that as a cue, too, because he went into the “butt cheek jerk” mode.

  “Is everything okay?” Cleo asked. She shut the door but not before Harry let out a loud “yee-haw,” followed by Monica and Tiffany’s equally loud giggles.

  “More cowboy auditions?” Judd said.

  “Something like that. How’d the visit from the social worker go?”

  His hesitation caused even more jangling of her nerves. “Kace won’t know anything for a day or two until he gets the report. The social worker is concerned about how he’s going to ‘adequately foster’ the boys with his work schedule, but other than that, Kace thinks it went okay.”

  That didn’t cause her to feel much relief. “But?”

  She heard the deep breath that Judd took. “Beckham left school without permission. He’s okay,” Judd quickly added. “I found him near the elementary school, where he was keeping an eye on Isaac and Leo. He was worried that Leo had been getting picked on, and he wanted to make sure the kids didn’t call Leo a mutt again.”

  That automatically put some knots in her muscles. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “No need. It’s all under control. I took Beckham back to school and smoothed things over with the principal. Beckham only got a warning this time.”

  This time. Which meant if he did it again, which he likely would, there’d be trouble. Trouble that none of them needed with a social worker who was worried about whether Kace could pull off this parenting thing.

  “What about Leo being picked on?” she persisted.

  “I handled that.”

  She waited for even a smidge more of an explanation, but when Judd didn’t give her one, she pushed. “Handled it how?”

  “I didn’t beat up or arrest anyone,” he muttered, adding a huff. “I talked with the principal and then had a chat with Arnie Smelton about keeping reins on that idiot spawn of his. It was his youngest dimwit piece-of-shit who was bullying Leo.”

  She had no problem hearing the anger in Judd’s voice, and while part of her—the adult part—thought that maybe she should mention that it wasn’t good to call a child an idiot spawn/dimwit piece-of-shit, Cleo wanted to call the kid something worse for bullying Leo.

  “You’re sure I don’t need to come to Coldwater?” Cleo asked.

  “No. I’ll follow the bus from school back to the ranch, and if there’s any further stupidity from the dimwit, Isaac will give me a sign. Then, I’ll stop the bus and take care of it.”

  Cleo had mixed feelings about that, too. Judd didn’t have the gentlest approach when it came to conflict resolution. Plus, if he’d already found Beckham, talked to two principals and dealt with Arnie Smelton, then he’d taken a lot of time off from work. Too much time, considering this wasn’t even his problem. Heck, it wasn’t Kace’s problem, though he had also spent a good chunk of the day dealing with the social worker and the boys.

  Sighing, she checked the time and calculated that she needed at least two solid hours just to deal with the critical paperwork and make sure there was enough staff to cover the bar. Then she’d head back to the ranch and see for herself that everything was as okay as it could be. After the boys were in bed, she could maybe come back to the bar and tackle some more projects.

  “If you get me the name of Leo’s bus driver, I’ll call him or her,” Cleo said. “And I’ll have a heart-to-heart talk to let him or her know what a tough time Leo’s going through.”

  Judd made a skeptical “good luck with that” sound. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and ended the call.

  Cleo was about to go back in her office when she saw a man coming up the hall toward her. It was rare for just the sight of someone to get her hackles up, but that was what happened now.

  Because the man was Lavinia’s biker friend, Otto.

  Tiny, the bartender, was right behind him, and that’s the only reason Cleo didn’t immediately call the cops. Tiny was nearly twice Otto’s size and would toss the man out on his leather-clad butt if he gave Cleo any trouble. But Cleo didn’t want to stand behind Tiny’s wide girth. She wanted to set some things straight on her own.

  “You’re not welcome here,” Cleo told Otto. “And if you don’t leave right now, you’ll be getting a restraining order, too.”

  Otto nodded as if expecting her to say that, but he gave an uneasy glance over his shoulder at Tiny, who was making a low growling sound. Tiny’s eyes were narrowed to angry slits.

  “I won’t stay long,” Otto assured her. He was wearing the same stained shirt and leather pants that he’d had on when Lavinia and he had paid a visit to the ranch. “Say, did you know your sign is messed up?” The corner of his mouth lifted as he hiked his thumb in that direction. “Guess somebody thought it’d be funny to have a bar named after a cow’s butthole.”

  Apparently Otto thought it was funny as well, because his mouth lift turned into a full smile that lasted until he noticed her expression. Cleo wasn’t smiling.

  “Anyway, this is a real nice place,” he went on. “Wasn’t sure what it’d be ’cause Lavinia said it was a boner bar. A tit tavern,” he added as if that clarified things. “Strip club,” he explained even more.

  “It’s not.” And her crisp denial would have been a whole lot more effective if at that moment Daisy hadn’t opened the door to reveal a perfectly framed view of Harry’s butt. Yes, Monica and Tiffany were still touching it.

  “Oh,” Daisy said when her attention landed on Otto and Tiny. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Cleo tried to sound reassuring, but it was hard to manage with her jaw clenched. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

  “Sure.” Daisy shot Otto an uncertain look before she went back in and shut the door.

  “Lavinia told me lots of stuff, more than this being a boner bar,” Otto went on. “Not sure if it was all true, but she said you’d brainwashed her daughter and that you were a skank.” He paused. “She used a different word than skank that I figure I shouldn’t repeat.” He gave Tiny another uneasy glance.

  Cleo suspected she knew the word, or rather the words, that Lavinia had used to describe her, but she’d yet to figure out why the woman hated her so much. Maybe Lavinia did believe the brainwashing because Miranda had cut ties with her, and Lavinia perhaps thought Cleo was responsible for that.

  She hadn’t been.

  Lavinia’s own bad behavior was the reason for the rift between mother and daughter. And it’d been a long time coming since Miranda had said she’d endured a lifetime of bad behavior from Lavinia.

  “I’m real sorry about all the fuss Lavinia caused and the names she called you and this place,” Otto continued.

  “Are you also sorry about the bruises she put on her grandsons?” Cleo snapped.

  Otto’s next nod was even faster than his first one. “Lavinia didn’t say nothing about that when she asked me to give her a ride.”

  When Cleo felt the sharp pain in her hand, she realized she had such a hard grip on her phone that she was surprised it hadn’t shattered. She forced her fingers to relax. “Well, now that you know, my advice would be not to give her more rides.”

  “I won’t be. Me and Lavinia have had sort of a falling-out.” Otto shook his head and plowed his sausage-s
ized fingers through his stringy hair. “That’s the reason I came here. To warn you about Lavinia. She’s madder than a pissed-on possum.”

  “I’m going to assume that’s pretty mad,” Cleo muttered.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Mad and mean. I gotta say, that’s not a good mix. She worked herself up about you taking the boys, and I think she’s gonna do something to get back at you.”

  Cleo huffed. “I can handle whatever Lavinia dishes out.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but she wasn’t talking about going after you. She plans to go after your fella.”

  Everything inside Cleo went still. “My fella?”

  “The deputy,” Otto confirmed. “You might want to tell him to watch his back ’cause Lavinia’s got her pissed-on possum eyes set on messing him over.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “HEY, HOT HUNKY COWBOY,” the woman called out.

  Judd groaned because he instantly recognized the voice, and it was someone he didn’t want to see. The day had already been hellishly long, and this particular visitor wasn’t going to improve things.

  He soon spotted Mercy Marlow leaning against his truck. Barring blindness, it would be impossible to miss her in her gold spandex bodysuit and the tower of unnaturally red hair piled on her head. She grinned around the drag she took off her cigarette and blew the smoke out the side of her pursed pink lips.

  She had “porn star” written all over her. Literally. It was printed across the top of her bodysuit that looked ready to explode from the pressure of her breasts—which were also massively unnatural.

  Since Judd had run a background check on her, he knew Mercy Marlow was her real name, but now that she was fifty-three, her porn-star days were over. However, along with her income as a phone-sex operator, she also taught acting classes for wannabe porn stars.

  She wasn’t a typical AA sponsor.

  But she was a solid one, having overcome her own alcohol demons to stay ten years sober. And even at times like this, with this unexpected visit, Judd had never considered requesting someone else.