Princess of the Plains

by Katherine Rhodes

  Geo was on his feet and Tate was a moment behind, having to grab his cane. They marched to the floor, and RJ halted. The Gibbons brothers and their nasty little posse.

  “Tate, go get my uncle. Tell him to call the cops.”

  Tate wanted to argue. He wanted to follow his friends into the fray, but there was no chance he could hold his own—especially when he was it was the Gibbons brothers causing the ruckus. He made a bee-line, as fast as his terrible legs would carry him, for the hostess stand where he saw the maître d’.

  “You got a problem on the dance floor,” he said. “You’re about to have a fight on your hands.”

  “What?” The maître d’ looked around him and to the floor, where the Gibbonses were circling the three girls, and RJ and Geo were closing in. “You’re right, we are.” He grabbed the phone and dialed the cops.

  Tate hobbled his way back over to where the fight was about to happen, and he was pleasantly surprised to find out that Lucy had things somewhat in hand with these Gibbons idiots.

  In fact, she wasn’t having any of their shit.

  “—Gentlemen hold doors and tip hats and offer flowers. You grabbed my ass, and that disqualifies you. Go away. Take your friends and your steroid muscles and go away.”

  The Gibbonses and friends passed a look around them and started laughing. “Naw, I don’t think so. We see things we like here and we’re gonna show you what it’s like to have the attention of the Gibbons brothers.”

  There was just a pause in the air where Tate saw Lucy swallow hard, and Tee get ready to back her sister up, whatever the outcome. But she didn’t have to.

  “I think it’s time for the Gibbons brothers and their useless friends to find a new place and leave people alone.”

  RJ.

  Standing just outside the circle of entirely too big and frighteningly burly men, directly across from Tate, he had his arms crossed over his chest—and Geo was right behind him, looking mighty pissed as well. Tate turned up his lip. He should be there defending his girl, too.

  Fucking useless leg.

  “Oh, and who’s gonna make me?” the Gibbons brother asked, pushing his way over to them. “You? You’re a runt, Miller. Your mama couldn’t even grow you big.”

  Lucy snorted, then looked horrified.

  The Gibbonses—and just about everyone else in the building—looked over at her.

  She shrugged. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Geo, Tate, and Fatima burst out laughing while he watched poor Addie turn five shades of red. Naturally, the Gibbonses and their friends were completely lost at the innuendo. They were also pissed that they weren’t getting the joke, and the tall one stalked up to RJ.

  Tate moved as fast as he could to join his friends on the other side of the crowd. He wasn’t needed on this side, and he wasn’t much use anyway.

  Without flinching, even though the man stood about four inches taller, RJ raised a disinterested eyebrow.

  “You’d better take your scrawny ass out of here, Miller. Ain’t no one woman in Texas wants to be stuck with a runt like you.”

  “I really don’t know where you’re getting this runt thing, Keith. I’m not a runt where it counts, including my brains and my pants. So run off and figure out somewhere else to play grab-ass, because it ain’t here and it ain’t my girlfriend’s ass.”

  “This little thing is your girlfriend?” Gibbons laughed. “Oh, darling, let me show you what a real man is made of.”

  Lucy kicked him in the balls, hard, and watched as he doubled over in pain. “Huh. Looks like you got the same soft spot as all the rest.”

  Tate and Fatima snorted.

  Keith was furious. “I’m gonna kill you!”

  Gibbons exploded out of his crouched position, and what really happened was clouded by the fists and limbs flying around. Lucy was swinging and RJ was swinging, and Gibbons didn’t know what to do.

  Tate watched as the massive figure of Uncle Carl walked out of the kitchen.

  “That is enough!”

  The rafters of the building shook at the yell from the bar.

  Everyone froze, and in an almost comical moment, the band hit a sour note and stopped.

  Carl Miller walked into the middle of the melee. “What in the name of hell is going on here?”

  Gibbons pointed to Lucy, and Carl made a sour face as the gathered crowd booed and hissed at him.

  “You’re gonna blame this sweet girl for this mess? No. Get out, Gibbons. Get out and take your shit-sucking friends with you. This is my establishment, and it’s a good place. I won’t have you screwing this place up, or groping women, or starting fights on my property. Get out.”

  The two very large, handsome gentlemen who had been pulling the men away from Lucy took up position on either side of Carl and folded their arms.

  Gibbons turned and swung at RJ, landing right on his jaw and spinning him around.

  Lucy launched herself at him, kicking him between the legs again, and as he doubled over she took the chance to knee him in the face and box his ears. She grabbed his shirt and rammed him into the wall. She was gearing up to kick him when the massive figure of Samson Duke grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off Keith Gibbons. “That’s enough, you Yankee spitfire, you.”

  She struggled for just a few seconds before she was too far out of range to do any damage to the Gibbons jerk, and instead opted to struggle out of the strong grip she was in. “Put me down! Put me down or so help me—”

  “Calm down, young lady. Please.” Gideon Duke was in front of her, holding her back from swinging her arms at anyone.

  Fatima jumped in and ran over to her sister. “Lucia, páre. Please. You’re going Jersey on everyone.”

  Lucy took a deep breath and settled her feet on the floor. “Sorry. Sorry. I get a little ragey.”

  “You’ve got a hell of woman here, Miller,” Gideon said.

  “Yeah, I know. She almost makes my Texas chivalry outdated,” RJ said, walking over. “Thanks, Samson, Gideon. Fancy seeing you here.”

  “We were in the neighborhood, chatting with the governor about some business. Thought we’d pop by for a beer. Didn’t expect the Gibbonses to be here.”

  “No one does,” Carl said, walking up. “I have kicked them out so many times it’s not funny. I’m going to have to put up their pictures so they don’t even get let in the front door. Thanks, gents. Beers are on me tonight. Now, RJ, let’s see if we can’t get that face patched up.”

  Lucy grabbed RJ’s arm. “You never have to get hurt for me, RJ. Really. I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”

  RJ smiled. “Princess, I’d take a bullet for you if I had to.”

  Carl and the Duke brothers led RJ away, and Fatima gave her sister a hug and then punched her arm.

  “Ow!” Lucy looked at her. “What the hell?”

  “Stop acting like you’re invincible! RJ was there for you.”

  Tate nodded. “And the cops are on the way. You don’t have to stand up to the Gibbonses.”

  “Tate, I’m from Jersey. I’m also not going to wait for someone to rescue me from sexual harassment. I’m going to fight.”

  Fatima looked her. “I love you sis, but damn. You’re stubborn.”

  “Whatever. I want my fries.”

  Laughing, Tate shook his head. “Your gallant knight ate them.”

  “What? That jerk…” Lucy took off for the bar.

  Pinching her nose, Fatima shook her head slowly. “She’s too much. She’s so…”

  Tate took her hand. “Jersey?”

  “Yes, oh, my God. So Jersey. I mean, I know I can be the same way, but she’s so alpha too.”

  “Tee, it’s all over. Let’s just go back to the table and have a beer.”

  Fatima looked at him, her deep brown eyes glimmering as her hair almost seemed to tremble with her pent-up energy. “Tate, I’m sorry. I got all caught up in that bullshit. We’re supposed to be on a date too.”

  Feeling more bo
ld than he had in weeks, he leaned in and silenced her with a kiss. “No. It’s fine. We can pick up where we just left off. Back to the table, your highness?”

  Fatima gave him a smile. “Yes, let’s. I need a beer.”

  They settled at the table and Tate pulled Fatima in close on her chair. He was delighted by her and her sister—but mostly by her. Her dark hair was so soft, he adored running his fingers through it. Certainly she didn’t complain about his attention.

  A genuine princess, right there in his arms. He smiled at her.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “How gorgeous you are.”

  She went pink, almost instantly. “Thank you.”

  “Do you know how long you're going to be here?”

  Fatima laughed. “Oh, a while. Lucy’s taken quite the shine to RJ.”

  “Well, that's good. Because I've taken quite the shine to you.”

  “Smooth talker.”

  Tate grinned. “You're not in Jersey anymore, darlin’. We shoot from the hip here. I'm not lying. I think you are possibly the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.”

  She turned in her chair and looked at him. “I really don't know how to take that.”

  “Sincerely.”

  Fatima was bright red now, and she let her hair fall to hide her face.

  Tate lifted her chin and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You walked into that ballroom with hauteur very few people could pull off, and you're embarrassed by a compliment?”

  She smiled shyly. “It's the complexity of being female.”

  He studied her face and then leaned in and gave her a sweet, gentle kiss on the lips. She tasted like her drink: sweet and strong. She smiled through the kiss.

  “I think you're not nearly as complicated as you think you are, Tee. I think you like roses, diamonds, and respect.”

  She giggled. “All three of those are nice.”

  He leaned in to her ear. “Your sister and RJ aren't the only ones with a place to stay tonight, Tee.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Did you figure you were going to proposition me for a night of sex?”

  “No way, darlin’. I figured I'd be drunk, and didn't want to spend ninety bucks on an Uber back home.” He grinned as she quickly grew indignant. “But I was kind of hoping that you might want to take us to the next level.”

  “So the hotel room is your version of a wallet condom?”

  “Well, that's decidedly unromantic. Let's call it a, um...versatile investment.”

  Fatima laughed. “That's good. I like it. Wormed your way out of that one.”

  There was suddenly someone seated right next to them, and he and Fatima turned their heads slowly to see what was going on. Lucy was right there, staring at them.

  “Hi.”

  “Cristos, Lucia, pare. We were chatting.”

  “Bougie.” She made kissy noises. “I saw.”

  “Seu traseiro. Like you and RJ weren't slapping each other's asses the other night.” Fatima made a slapping motion. “Ay, RJ! Sim! Bata minha bunda! Sim!”

  Lucy went bright red and Tate couldn't stop his laugh.

  She stood up and flipped her sister off, walking away.

  Fatima sat back. “I love her, but sometimes…”

  “It's a sibling thing.”

  “At least you only have Caldwell.”

  Tate choked on his drink. “Oh, no. Who told you that? Cald and I are from Dad’s first marriage. When he found us years later, he'd remarried, and he and Deirdre started popping out kids—five of them. Darren and Danielle—twins, Germany, Haskell, and Jerron. Jerron is two, and I swear I heard them talking about adding another. I love them all, don't get me wrong, but I know what it's like to have a lot of siblings.”

  “Wow, I thought we were bad with five.”

  “Lemme see… Lucia, Fatima, Marcia…” He trailed off.

  “Sofia and Aureliano. The little prince.”

  “Sarcastically?”

  “No. Mother and father have been fielding marriage proposals from other royal families since he was born. Even though marriage outside the blood isn't frowned on, they all still prefer blooded lines. Oh, Tate, it's so exhausting. Proposal after proposal. Marcia seems determined to find a blooded husband, and some of those guys are so damn creepy. My skin crawls when she goes on these dates.”

  “And you? Did you ever think about it?”

  “Once. One date. The guy was handsome as hell and I was charmed. It ended in me pressing sexual assault charges against him. Awful. I haven't looked back. I'll surrender my title.”

  “Do you have to, though?”

  “No, but what the hell does it even mean anymore? We're Americans. We don't have a throne. The country we came from doesn't even have a king anymore. If they did, it might mean something.”

  “Because it's fun to say I'm dating a princess.”

  She shot him a look, then laughed. “Bragging rights on bedding royalty?”

  “Oh, please. I don't screw and tell.”

  “You'd better not fuck and flee, either.”

  “From a Jersey girl? Hell no! You'd hunt me down and sell me to Satrialli’s Pork Store.”

  “Really? The Sopranos? Give me more credit. I'll take you out to the Pine Barrens and leave you.”

  Tate cracked up laughing. This woman was so much fun. He leaned forward again, and this time the kiss was serious, and deep.

  Fatima backed off a moment later. “Shit. Keep that up and we'll miss your brother's band.”

  “You promise?”

  “Tate—”

  “He won't mind. They're opening for Shiloh next week. We can get backstage.”

  “Judah James?!”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy hell.” She stared at him. “Where did you book the room?”

  Smirking, he grabbed her hand and his cane and stood from the table. “Come on. Best hotel in Austin.”

  * * *

  Caldwell watched as Tate walked out of the bar with Fatima da Silva on his arm. He waited until they were out of sight before punching the wall.

  Kevin raised an eyebrow and kept tuning his guitar. “Problems, Verhoven?”

  “My brother just walked out with woman of my dreams.”

  “That’s a problem.”

  “You’re telling me?”

  He took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let this come between them. He knew that Tate had had a hell of life so far, and if Fatima wanted to be with him, there was nothing Caldwell could do about it. “All right, it is what it is at this point. He caught her eye, and that’s it.”

  Kevin grunted. “Yeah. That’s it.”

  Turning, Caldwell stared at the guitarist. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve never walked away from anything you wanted in your life, Cald.”

  “Kev, I cannot do that to my brother. I can’t. The guy has seriously suffered, and this is the first girl that didn’t look him up and down and walk away disgusted. That counts for a lot in my book.”

  “I’ll go with what you say for now, but you’re not going to let it sit. We have more important matters at hand. And we need to make sure that we hit every damn note on this. Shiloh’s manager is out there to make sure we’re on point.”

  “I know, I know,” Caldwell said. He picked at the strings of his guitar. “This is good for us.”

  “It’s Shiloh. It’s great for us.”

  Caldwell nodded and tuned his guitar, for real this time. He couldn’t believe he was going to let this go. Fatima had caught his eye the instant she’d walked down the stairs in that dress. He’d wanted to be the one to escort her for the night. But he didn’t make it that night, and instead of seeing him, the princess saw his brother. They’d been together ever since.

  And that was that.

  Except he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  “Hey! Caldwell. Give me tonight and you can pine all you want for the girl that just walked off to fuck your brother.”

  Caldwe
ll punched the wall again.

  Chapter Three

  “You got this?”

  Tate gave her a thumbs up and carefully placed one foot in front of the other across the rocks. He momentarily questioned his sanity, bringing Fatima to the Balcones. There was up and down and a lot of steps—duh? Balconies?—but none of it so far had been bad.

  Until the rocks crossing the river over the falls. They weren’t big falls, but the stones were placed for people who were a little more adept at generally walking than he was. But he’d been doing okay with the walking lately, so he just took his time, and took the crossing one stone at a time. He certainly didn’t regret bringing Fatima there, though. The trees were turning to their fall colors and it was cool in the middle of the day.

  Well, cool for Texas. It was still warm, but at least they didn’t have to worry about sunstroke or overheating.

  The river ran shallow in the fall, all the hot summer eating up the water. It was still a sight to behold, and he hoped his leg would be able to carry him all the way to the canyon. He’d brought the heavy-duty hiking cane and a portable chair in case he needed a rest. Fatima, though, seemed willing to take everything slowly.

  Except sex.

  Which, really, who was he to complain?

  Starting out early in the day, they had driven out to Balcones Canyonlands see the scenery. He’d been there dozens of times with his family and knew the car would get them pretty far into the park before they had to hike. Though the park was a series of steps, most of the lands had been carved down gently and it was actually an easy hike. He decided to take the Indiangrass trail around, which was how he’d wound up crossing Cow Creek on the rocks with a cane and terrible balance.

  They wandered through the grass and the trees and Fatima had stopped on the other side of Cow Creek to stare at the water flowing by.

  “How the heck is it that clear?”

  “Fresh water out of the rocks. Underground stream, I think.” He considered her standing there and staring at the little creek. “What? You don’t have fresh water in New Jersey?”