Bootscootin' Blahniks (33 page)

“I’d love to try that approach,” Kat said, passing out the coffees. “What do you say, Lil? Let’s pretend we’re friends.”

Roxy’s mother, apparently weighing her options, and for once, evidently unable to find anything better, said, “I suppose you’re right, Kat. With our children together, and with you and I working together, we should make the best of our circumstances.”

“Okay. Back up just a bit,” Roxy said, her mouth full of a mammoth bite of a perfectly flaky, ham and cheese toasted croissant that could damn well wait ’til she got The Mom’s shit straight.

Certain she’d misheard the conversation while trying to enjoy her breakfast, she swallowed her food. Desperate to make something good out of this day, and refusing to give-up, Roxy revisited her mother’s response. “First of all, yes, I am with Zayne, and I hope he finds a better side of you than what you’ve shown him this morning. And two, you can’t possibly be working with Kat, because
she
works for me.”

Roxy relaxed back into her chair. But the only satisfaction she’d gained from her soliloquy came from Zayne who gave her an atta girl thumbs up. Continuing to sip his coffee, he never uttered a word. Using the rim of his to-go cup as a barrier and safety net, his eyes followed the conversation.

“Might be wise, Lil, if I jump in here,” Kat said, setting her coffee on the table and repressing the napkin on her lap with her fingers.

Shit
. Roxy had seen her do that only one other time, and nothing good came out of Kat revealing the secret she wanted Roxy to keep about her health, the secret that damn near destroyed both of their relationships with Zayne.

“Roxy, your mother and I have talked, cussed and discussed actually, the possibility of her joining me at Raeve.”

Evidently taking the look of horror on Roxy’s face for what it was…sheer, unabashed horror…Kat continued, while Roxy fought to keep her croissant from reappearing in the back of her throat. Roxy shook her head and swallowed carefully, trying not to stir her rising anger.

“Your mom’s apparently always wanted to be a part of your work, but never quite known how to approach you with the idea,” Kat said, now using her napkin as a fan instead of a security blanket.

Kat wasn’t the only one at the table getting warm. Even the dogs were panting. The heat of the moment was suffocating.

“It’s true, Roxy. Your father never thought I should interfere with your business. But I’m dying to see what it’s all about. You know I have a flair for fashion just like you and your father.” She hung her head, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “No one’s ever believed in me. Or given me the chance to exercise my skills.”

Roxy choked back tears, not of pity for her mother’s regrets, but tears of rage at the nerve of the woman. Through teeth gritted in seething anger, Roxy decided to go for broke. She had nothing to lose. With Zayne’s first official family breakfast sure to be his last, she’d show him her ugly side, an inherited trait straight from her mother’s half of the gene pool, giving Zayne all the more reason to bolt.

“Kat, I appreciate your help at Raeve, your friendship, and your unwavering support of my career. That is something, because of the woman sitting across from you, I’ve never had. A choice of her
own
choosing, not of my father’s whims,” Roxy said, her anger damn near preventing the words from making their editorial debut.

She turned her attention to her mother, who looked up at her with a combination of fear and ferocity. “
You
, you despicable excuse for a parent, don’t deserve to be called a mother, don’t deserve being let into my home, don’t deserve to sit in the company of the wonderful people at this table, including my dogs.”

“Roxy,” Zayne reached his hand across the table and linked his fingers with hers, taken aback by the coldness flowing through her veins and venomous words. “I don’t think…”

“I haven’t given you permission to think, Zayne.”

The ice dripping from Roxy’s voice should have stopped him cold, but he’d take his chances before she ran out of chances.

“No. No you haven’t given me the floor,” he said, refusing to let go of her hands. “But I’ve been where you are. And I don’t want you to make the mistakes I did.”

Turning to his mother, Zayne said, “Mom, I’m sure you remember the day just like I do.”

“That I do, son,” she answered, taking Zayne’s free hand in her own.

With the three of them linked, hand-by-hand, heart-to-heart, Zayne felt a glimmer of warmth return to Roxy’s fingers. Not wanting to lose the spark, he pressed on. “Like you with your mom, Princess, my father never understood me. Never knew who I was. Never took time to learn what made me happy.”

Zayne’s heart broke for the pain he saw in Roxy’s eyes.

“But unlike you, I never had the chance to make things right between us,” he said, taking a moment to compose his words with extreme care, hoping to turn his losses into Roxy’s gain.

Feeling his mom’s light pressure on his hand, silently encouraging him with her touch to continue fighting for the woman he loved, Zayne finished his thoughts. “My dad died before I found the courage to accept and love him for who
he
was — faults and all. I was too consumed by how he’d wronged me to love him for the things he did right.”

Zayne took a deep breath. His body trembled. But as if he’d removed a horribly burdensome weight from his soul, a lightness filled him. By giving Roxy the chance to forge a different destiny with her mom than he’d had with his dad, Zayne had freed his emotional baggage.

“Well done, Zayne,” his mother said, releasing him from her grasp.

The pride highlighting her kind face maintained Zayne’s stoicism. He’d purged the guilt he’d suffered at the hand of his father. But would the courage he’d finally mustered to break free from those barriers cost him the woman he loved?

Turning to Roxy, his mother said, “The choice is yours, dear. It always has been.”

Zayne let go of Roxy’s hands long enough to get up from the table and go to her. Bending down on one knee, he wiped several stray tears from her cheek. “I love you, Princess, and I’ll be here for you no matter what you decide.”

“I love you too,” Roxy answered in a soft whisper.

Her body quivered under Zayne’s fingertips.

“Thank you,” she said, her lips forming the words her raw emotions must have blocked her voice from sounding.

“Anytime.” Standing and turning his attention to The Moms, he said, “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment. Some unfinished farming business to tend to.”

Not missing his mom’s curious gaze, Zayne winked, trying to ward off her concern. As if that would satisfy her.

Meeting Lily’s hesitant look, Zayne extended his hand. “Lily, it was nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to spending more time with you.”

“Quit while you’re ahead, Cowboy,” Roxy cautioned, a warm smile replacing the frigid lines of her earlier anger and fear.

“Overkill?” He raised his eyebrows, appealing to his mother and Roxy to score his encore.

They both nodded simultaneously, affirming his concerns. “Probably could have left that last line out, huh?”

Lily straightened in her seat, and in a quiet, but firm voice said, “Your performance already earned my approval. Bravo, Cowboy.”

Zayne left The Moms and Roxy in the Zen garden, hoping they all made it out alive.

He got into his truck and slammed the door, surprised at the strength of the resolve building inside him. Starting the engine, he steered the truck towards home. He was actually looking forward to getting his hands dirty.

He’d realized while pleading his case to the diva squad, that before he could pursue his dreams with Roxy or his dream to open a dance studio, he had another mission to accomplish. He had a tomato contest to win.

This time, however, he wasn’t giving the challenge every ounce of his sweat, skill and steel-will because of his dad’s wishes. Zayne was seeing through the competition for his own sense of accomplishment. No one else’s.

Now that he’d forgiven his father’s rebuke of his natural talents and skills, Zayne had nothing to prove to the old man. He had only to prove his abilities to himself.

He couldn’t expect Roxy to give his new outlook a try if he didn’t do the same.

Now that he’d convinced her to give both him and her mother a shot at becoming permanent fixtures in her future, he planned to build that future, literally, from the ground up.

That meant dealing with the Baudlins the best way Zayne knew how. He’d kept Jack away from Roxy. Now he’d take Jack’s father out of the winner’s circle for good.

Zayne used to think the best way to figure out what the Baudlins were up to was to go to their farm and confront Jack about the missing card, forcing the asshole to come clean about either his or his father’s games.

But he’d changed his strategy.

First, he and Cody would fix his dad’s hybrid, making it the best tomato in the county. Giving it the thick skin Zayne had now found for himself.

In the mean time, he’d turn The Moms and Roxy loose on the Baudlins. If anyone could get them to buckle, pun intended, those three could.

Turning onto the county road that would take him past the Baudlin Farms then to his own farm, Zayne laughed. He felt sorry for the cocksuckers. They had no idea what they were in for. But they deserved every bit of the bullshit Zayne’s favorite new bitch squad would no doubt dish-out.

R
oxy balanced six frosty beer mugs on her tray then took off across the saloon to serve a rowdy group of farmers. Her shoulders ached from slinging beers all night, but three of her waitresses had been no shows, leaving her no choice. She’d even put Audrey to work in the kitchen helping Jules cover an employee taking an early maternity leave.

Beyond exhausted, Roxy pushed herself harder. Zayne and Kat, and now Roxy’s mother too, depended on her to get them all through the end of summer or at least until the tomato contest was finished. Zayne’s entry was due three weeks from tomorrow. At best, that’s how long Roxy had to maintain her frantic pace.

She’d make it. She always did. And the fact that she didn’t have to do it alone was the extra motivation she needed.

Reaching the table to unload the beer, Roxy began taking each mug off her tray, setting them in front of the hell-raising bunch. With two beers left and its nasty foam sticking to her fingers, she circled to the next customer. When he turned to greet her, she about dumped the tray into his lap.

“Whoa, Cowgirl. Ya need help with that?” A loud, booming voice goaded her.

“Jack Baudlin,” Roxy said, hoping to cover-up her joy at seeing him. “What brings you into town on a weeknight?”

She served his beer then cozied up to him, wedging her body between his stool and the gentlemen seated next to him.

Not that she actually wanted to hang with Jack, but she had plans he couldn’t begin to figure out. He wasn’t that smart. And he definitely wasn’t as quick on the draw as she was. Although when she got done with him, he’d wish he’d have had a clue.

“Well, hi, darlin’. Don’t tell me Zayne’s got you runnin’ around here, overworkin’ your pretty self while he’s watchin’ his tomatoes,” Jack said.

The stench of beer on his breath about made Roxy sick.

“Running around here serving our customers happens to be my job. It has nothing to do with Zayne’s tomatoes.” She batted her lashes and casually brushed her hand against Jack’s thigh. Too bad the guy next to him already had a firm hold on his man.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends and tell me what you’re celebrating? A round on the house might be in order.” Waiting until all the eyes at the table were on her, Roxy flipped her hair behind her head, playfully swishing her newly highlighted locks as if she were in the running for the next John Paul Mitchell campaign.

Clearing his throat, Jack took her bait. “If you insist on buying, I’ll oblige your curiosity. These are my farmhands — Richard, Sam, Henry, and David.”

He gestured to the table at large.

“Now I think you’ve met my main guy, Santos.” Jack patted the dark warrior flanking his side.

You mean main squeeze, Roxy silently harrumphed.

“But I don’t know that you’ve met my dad, Harry,” Jack said, pointing to the large, gruff old bird across the table. “Fellas, this is Roxy, Zayne’s girlfriend.”

The farmhands waved. Santos gave her a picture perfect smile — damn he was hot, but in a gayer-than-gay manner.
Why were most of the hot ones interested in the wrong parts
?

Jack’s father took Roxy’s hand and shook it with a mighty strong grip, damn near a serpent attempting to strangle its prey. But Roxy was no mouse. When she slivered-in to suffocate his future, it’d be
Harry’s
eyeballs popping out of his head not hers.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baudlin,” she said, pulling her hand out of his. “If you boys will excuse me I have some business to tend to in the kitchen. But I’ll be back shortly.”

She turned to leave then turned back, donning a smile fit for a Hooter’s girl working her customers for an obscenely large tip. “Now what is it you’re celebrating tonight? I’d like to hook you up with a round.”

The farmhands looked at Jack. Jack anxiously looked at his old man. Evidently Harry was the balls and the brains of the operation.

“Let’s just say we’ve made a major discovery that’s sure to secure our title as Nashville’s tomato kings,” Harry boasted.

His chest was so full he looked like a gigantic puffin.

“Good for you. I’ll be back with shots on the house in a few.”

Roxy sauntered away from the table, leaving the men to stare at her ass. So as not to disappoint them, she added extra bounce and swing to her gait.

She couldn’t wait to get into the kitchen and summons her accomplices. Lucky for her, they’d stopped in for dinner on their way home from the boutique.

Was it illegal in Tennessee to poach puffins? Guess she and The Moms would find out real soon.

After hooking up the Baudlin clan with a round on the house, Roxy pushed her way through the serving station’s swing doors and tossed her tray on a counter. No time for slinging beers the rest of the night. She had more pressing jobs to tend to.