Bobby Does Dallas: Hill Country Heart (3 page)

One thing Cecile did know;
Annalise
was still deeply in love with Ethan.  Every hero in every book that she had written was patterned after him.  And every dedication in every book had his first name in tribute – 'to my own hero, Ethan.  I will never forget you.' At
Annalise's
insistence, the artwork on the front of every one of her novels was Ethan’s likeness. If he was as good looking as the man on the cover of the books, he was a sight to behold.  No wonder ‘
Lise
was still in love with him. 

If she and Carl got divorced it would be a long time before she put herself into the dating fray.  She was tired of getting hurt – but Lord – she craved sex.  Exiting out of her email account, she logged onto a discreet adult site.  Yeah, they had what she was looking for: pages and pages of them – dildos.  Smiling to herself, she clicked through the wide variety of battery powered – vibrating – thrusting – pink, purple – plastic pleasure toys.  Finding one that promised untold pleasure, she clicked the instant buy button and felt like she had accomplished something.    

Feeling like she was finally taking charge of her life, she decided to set the ball rolling with Carl.  It was now or never, she told herself.  Dialing his cell phone number, she held her breath and waited.  "Hello?" 

Carl had a deep, sexy voice – that had been one of the things that had first attracted her to him.  That and his hair – he had beautiful blonde, thick hair.  It was a pity that he didn't find anything about her attractive.  Taking a deep breath, she jumped in.  She knew that he had caller ID, so he knew exactly who was on the phone, yet… he said nothing personal, waiting for her to make the first move.  "Carl,
it's
Cecile.  How are things going?"

She heard him exhale loudly.  Lord, was she such a bother?  "Not too bad.  I'll be able to come home tomorrow, I guess."

He guessed?  Where else would he go?
  Not for the first time, Cecile wondered if he were having an affair.  Would it matter?  After all, he sure wasn't sleeping with her.  "Good.  I'm glad you're well."  It would have been nice if he had called to check in on her.  For the past three days he had been in San Antonio on business.  Nothing had really changed, but at least they had dinner together the night before he left.  When she had returned to Dallas from the writer's conference – after her talk with
Annalise
– Cecile had chickened out about telling Carl she wanted a divorce.  Maybe she owed her marriage one last try.  So… here she was, about to try and execute her plan – Cecile was going to attempt to seduce her husband.  "Carl, I would like for us to meet at this beautiful Bed and Breakfast.  It's not far from where you are."

Wearily, he asked. 
"A Bed and Breakfast?
  Cecile, you know I don't like that kind of thing."

Quickly, she came up with her pitch.  "It's near the Lost Maples State Park. There are eleven miles of hiking trails there.  The trails go through some of the most gorgeous scenery in the hill country."

There was a pause.  "That sounds like fun.  Could you find some shopping to do?"

Actually, she had hoped they could spend the time together.  But, maybe she could work on that side of things after they got there. "Sure.  I can do that."

"All right," he agreed.  "Give me directions.  I'll meet you there tomorrow."

*****

Bobby walked toward the Darrell K. Royal Stadium.  It was time for football practice.  And there was nothing that Bobby Stewart loved more than football – except women.  Jeffrey Johnson and
Ladon
Mahoney stepped in beside him. 
"Hey, cowboy.
  How's it
hangin
?" 
Ladon
slapped Bobby on the back. 

Bobby had come straight from the rodeo arena and he was still dressed in full cowboy regalia.  Johnson laughed, taking in the scene.  "Hey Stewart, did you know that there are four cute little coeds on your tail?  I think they like the way you look in those chaps."  Bobby swung around and winked at the little ladies, making them giggle as he tipped his hat at them.

"You know, it's just not fair,"
Ladon
grumbled.  "You've got it all Bobby.  Not only are you a football star, you're also a champion bull rider and freakishly good-looking.  The only thing that I've got going for me is that my people are healthy and live a long time.  I've got longevity in my genes."

Bobby laughed and cupped his crotch.  "I've got longevity in my jeans, too."

"Heard you rode that killer bull.
  What’s his name?  
Porn Star?"
&nblia. liked to jack with Stewart.  He was a down-to-earth, good guy – despite seeming to have it all.  

"Rock Star," Bobby said with satisfaction.  "I stayed on that devil for the full, long eight seconds."

Ladon
slung his backpack over his massive shoulders.  "Only a bull rider would think eight seconds is a long time.  I pity your women, man.  They have to learn how to get it in gear and get off fast."

Bobby tipped his Stetson at a beautiful blonde that was walking toward him, and a curvy redhead that crossed their paths and spoke to him sweetly. 
"Hi, Bobby."

"I always leave my women completely satisfied." Bobby stated matter-of-factly as he opened the double doors to the hall that led to the locker rooms and the player’s lounge.

"That's what I hear." Reece Witherspoon flung a towel at the large hamper.  "Word is that Stewart is hung like one of those bulls he rides. 
Hence, his nickname – Bull Stewart."

"This is a locker room, 'Spoon.  We've all seen each other's plumbing." Bobby passed off the good-natured ribbing with his usual smooth return.  Looking up, he noticed that one of his coaches was standing at the door motioning him over.  "Uh-oh, I'm being sent to the office."

"If it's what I think it is, I believe you'll find its worth your trip," Reece sighed, wishing it was him.

"What's up Coach?" Bobby didn't think he had done anything wrong, but he had halfway been expecting them to complain about his bull-riding.  Some athletic programs frowned on their players doing anything off the field that could be construed as risk-taking behavior – and mounting one ton of pissed off bull was definitely a risk. 

"I've got some good news for you." The coach grinned at him.  Bobby inwardly let out a breath of relief – this was, apparently, related to something else entirely.

"Good news? Do you have a special play that you want me to try?" He loved to be on the receiving end of Colt McCoy's throwing arm.  Colt could thread a needle with a football – he was just that accurate.

"The deadline for declaring for the NFL draft is January.  Are you planning on pitching your hat in the ring or are you content bouncing around on top of those widow-makers with horns?"

Bobby looked sheepish.  He hadn't tried to hide his extracurricular activities, but none of the coaching staff had ever mentioned it to him before.

The middle-aged, ex-pro player knew extraordinary talent when he saw it.  It was his business.    Trotsky leaned back in his office chair and waited for Bobby to put his mind to rest.  He had taken special interest in this young man because Stewart had that certain something that separated the good players from the great ones – give Bobby one shot with the ball and he could make it happen – and make it look easy.  Stewart was a joy to coach.

"Yes sir.  I've already got the paperwork done."     

"Good… because Dallas is looking at you.  You could be a first round draft pick."

Bobby swallowed hard. 
Had he heard right?
  Playing for Dallas was his ultimate dream-come-true.  "Sir – are you serious?"

"They'll be at the first game.  And don't worry about it.  We've got a little time to get you ready.  Just play like you normally do and try not to get yourself killed by one of those bucking hamburgers-on-the-hoofs before then."  Trotsky stood and put his hand on Bobby's shoulder in a fatherly gesture.  "I'm proud of you, boy.  I've enjoyed coaching you more than you'll ever know.  You're a good kid."

Bobby walked back to the locker room in a daze.  The Dallas Cowboys were interested in him – Bobby Stewart!  Hot damn!  He slapped his Stetson against his leg and laughed out loud.  He thought about calling his brothers, but decided to wait until he had something more definite to tell them.  Dallas!  He couldn't believe it. Hell, this was great news!  Dallas wouldn't know what hit it when Bobby Stewart arrived.  He was going to take ‘Big 'D' by storm.

Later that afternoon, Bobby was heading home.  Class had let out early and all he had to do was run some errands and he was free for two days.  The only thing he had to return to Austin for was football practice, which was a pleasure.  Grabbing the list from the glove compartment, he checked to see what Alex had mapped out for him.  Crap!  This would take forever.  He had to pick up Ethan's liquor order from the beverage store, pick up some samples from one of Alex's environmental conservation clients, fetch
Mojo
from the vet's office and buy the paint that had been special ordered for the B&B.  Glancing out the window, he noticed a storm was brewing.  Hopefully, he could get all this done and get home before the bottom fell out.

Turning on the radio to his favorite station, Bobby rolled down the window and started singing Jake
Owen's
‘Eight Second Ride’ to the top of his lungs.  He was on top of the world.  He couldn't believe that he might actually get the chance to play for Dallas.  For a moment, he considered that he might tell his brothers the good news while he was home, but he didn't want to jinx the possible outcome.  It was tempting, though…anything to nudge Ethan out of the funk that he d been in.  Since his marriage to that human piranha, Francine, Ethan had been on a steady spiral into depression.  He and Alex had told him that divorcing the vicious bitch had been the smartest thing that he had ever done. 

Pulling into the paint store, he checked his phone for messages.  Damn!  There were eight messages from assorted girls, and three of them would make a sailor blush.  Bobby wondered what was wrong with him – he was fast losing his taste for pushy women.   Most men would give their right
nut
to be in his shoes, but more and more Bobby Stewart was finding that he hungered for a woman who would let him be the aggressor.  He wanted a woman that made him feel like a man, not just a piece of meat.   

*****

Cecile put on a bit of lip gloss, rearranged her new, sexy negligee over her breasts and went to face the music.  Cracking open the bathroom door, she could see Carl standing in front of the window.  A nature lover, he had been taken by the beautiful grounds of the Bed and Breakfast.  He had already mentioned that he wanted to check out the rose bed and the picturesque creek that ran behind the main guest house.

He looked good standing there wearing only a pair of light blue pajama pants.  Carl wasn’t muscled-up like some men, but he had a nice body.  On the drive down to Lost Maples she had tried to remember how it felt when she had first fell in love with Carl – or when she
thought
they were in love.  There was so much distance between them now, that it was hard to recall the excitement of his kiss or the warmth of his touch.  Starting to step toward him, she stopped in her tracks when his cell phone rang.  Cutting his eyes toward her, he let his gaze rake over her.  Without a smile or nod of acknowledgement, he picked up the phone and walked over to the kitchen area leaving her standing there in her skimpy little outfit with a hesitant, expectant look on her face.

From his conversation, she gathered that he was talking to his boss.  Carl was a very successful pharmaceutical salesman (a glorified pill peddler was what her mother had called him).  She went and took his place by the window, waiting for his phone call to end.  If she wasn’t so nervous about what was about to happen with Carl, she would already have been on the phone with
Annalise
.  She had huge news for her friend, but she couldn’t decide exactly how to tell her.  She might have to be sneaky. 

When she had driven up to check in, the first thing she had noticed was the Welcome Sign.  It had read:  Proprietors – Mr. And Mrs. Ethan Stewart.  Cecile was shocked.  She knew that name.  Ethan Stewart.  Could he be
Annalise’s
Ethan?  If it was and he was married, she would never breathe a word to ‘
Lise
.  But something told her to have a little faith.  When she had entered the lobby, there was no doubt in her mind.  The man was incredibly good looking – both of them.  One was a golden god, and the other was the model for 15 erotic novels that she had edited for
Annalise
.  To satisfy her curiosity, she had asked to speak to his wife – told him that she wanted to compliment her on the landscapings the Welce devastatingly good looking Ethan had gotten a serious look on his face and simply told her there was no Mrs. Ethan Stewart.  That was the best news that Cecile had heard in a long time.  Maybe
Annalise’s
dreams were finally going to come true; that is, if she could think of a way to convince her friend to visit one
very
picturesque Bed and Breakfast in the Texas Hill Country.