Catch Me a Cowboy (15 page)

“That’s not big, Wilkes, that’s Mormon-sized.” She hesitated. “Are you?”

“Nope.” He picked up the ladder and started back toward the hedge. “Just country.” She hurried in front of him and held back the branches of the shrub, but he wasn’t falling for that trick. “I can get it.”

“Chicken.” She flashed her deep dimples right before she ducked through the hedge.

The afternoon sun was almost unbearable. But so was the view of Shirlene’s bee-hind when she climbed up the ladder before him. The woman had curves in places he hadn’t even known women had curves in, and it left his body hard and his brain empty, which was why he didn’t say much of anything for the next few minutes. Instead he
located the swamp cooler and tried to concentrate on the job at hand. But it wasn’t easy.

“Geez Louise, it’s hot.” Shirlene pulled the edge of the t-shirt up and fanned it, revealing a tempting piece of white stomach and a cute belly button.

Jerking his gaze away, Billy knelt by the air conditioner. “So what’s up with the shirt? I didn’t take you for a superhero kind of girl.”

“Really? And just what kind of a girl do you take me for?”

“The kind who enjoys the feel of satin and silk.” He pulled off the cover of the evaporative unit and looked inside. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The belt and filter pads needed to be replaced, but the motor seemed to be in good condition. He exchanged the screwdriver for a wrench. After a few minutes of working on getting the belt off, he glanced up at Shirlene who stood there sweltering in the heat.

“If you’re plannin’ on standing there, the least you could do is block that little strip of sunlight.”

She sent him an exasperated look. “I’d be sitting if I had somewhere to sit.” She glanced down at the dirty, metal roof.

“Prissy woman,” he sighed as he got to his feet. He jerked open the snaps of his shirt and slipped it off, intending to spread it out on the roof for her to sit on. The cool air on his sweaty chest was a welcome relief. What wasn’t a relief was the hot, green gaze that settled there.

Damn, the woman’s eyes should carry a warning—D
ANGER, ONE GLANCE COULD FRY YOUR BRAIN CELLS
. But it was too late for warnings. His mind was already fried. He just stood there like the dumb country boy he
was and allowed those eyes to glide over his bare torso like a curry brush over a horse’s back.

“You’re sweating,” she said as her eyes ate him whole.

“Uh-huh,” squeezed out of his tight throat. As he watched, one soft hand lifted and stroked a cool path down the center of his chest.

“Satin and silk,” she sighed as her hand trailed down his stomach and back up again. At the top of his clavicle, she spread out her fingers and slid them over one pectoral muscle. It twitched as she cradled it against her palm. The woman was like an electrical current and he the conductor. All he could do was stand there and let her spark straight through him.

“Hey? What are y’all doin’?”

The question had them both jumping back and turning to look at the strawberry-blond head that peeked over the edge of the roof.

Jesse scrambled over the ladder and sauntered across the roof as if he’d done it every day of his life. Billy didn’t doubt that he had. Boys wanted to climb on top of any obstacle put in front of them—Billy’s gaze slid over to Shirlene—make that boys and men. Never in his life had he wanted to climb on something as much as he did the fiery-haired woman who stood there with her green eyes all steamed with desire.

To ease the sexual tension that arced between them, Billy tried to come up with a stupid hillbilly line. Unfortunately, his hillbilly had been seduced into submission, and all he could do was stare back at her until Jesse spoke.

“So now that I’m here, does she have to stay?”

It took a real effort for Billy to pull his gaze away from
all that green heat. He cleared the desire from his throat. “Well, I think that’s up to Ms.—”

Before he could finish, Shirlene started backing toward the ladder. “I-I think I’ll just go on inside now.” She flapped a hand in a cute, flustered way. “I’m sure you men can handle things just fine without little ol’ me.”

For some reason, the thought of Shirlene Dalton being as flustered as a roosting hen brought a smile to Billy’s face. And fearing she might drop off the side of the roof, he stepped over and took her elbow, guiding her over to the ladder. When she was safely on the ground, he headed back to the air conditioner.

“So what was you and Ms. Dalton doin’ up here?” Jesse asked. “Having S-E-X?”

The blush that spread across Billy’s face was damned annoying. He squatted down and tried to sound stern. “I think you’re a little too young to be talking about things like that. Not that Ms. Dalton and I were even close to having…” He cleared his throat. “She was just swattin’ a fly.”

“On your titty?”

The wrench slipped out of Billy’s fingers and thunked to the roof. He wiped his hand off on his jeans before picking it back up. “It happens. And men don’t have titties, we have muscles.”

The kid glanced down at his skinny body, then over at Billy’s chest. “Well, I ain’t got those yet, so what do I call mine?”

After only a few seconds, Billy shrugged. “Titties.”

S
HIRLENE DIDN’T KNOW
what was worse: sitting in the hot trailer putting up with Mia’s silent treatment or standing on a sizzling roof with an even more sizzling redneck. A redneck she had trouble keeping her hands off. What had she been thinking? She had never helped herself to a man in her life. She’d never had to. Men took one look at her body and dove right in. Except as much as Bubba talked a good game, he wasn’t the diving type. The kiss out at Sutter Springs had been a mutual agreement, and the body massage on the roof had been all Shirlene.

Geez. She shook her head. Her preoccupation with Bubba’s body was starting to become annoying. Of course, it made perfect sense. After being married to a man close to twenty-five years her senior, firm and smooth held a certain appeal. And Shirlene had never been good at resisting things that appealed to her. Even if they weren’t good for her.

Bubba wasn’t good for her. He was way too cocky. And way too country. And way too… hot for her to handle. Especially now when her emotions were still screwed up
over Lyle’s death. Anyone with half a brain knew that you should wait an entire year after a major tragedy before making any big decisions. Hopping in bed with Bubba Wilkes was a big decision.

As was deciding what to do with four orphaned kids. Unfortunately, she couldn’t put that off. The Foster kids needed help now, not three months from now. Not that they seemed real happy about her being there. All four treated her like a bad case of the chicken pox.

Shirlene glanced over at Mia, who sat at the card table working on some problem that had her smooth forehead crinkled with worry. “So what are you working on, honey?” she asked, although she didn’t expect an answer. The girl talked less than she ate, which was something that had started to concern Shirlene. The eating part—not the talking. After living with a silent-type brother and a drunk mama, Shirlene was used to keeping up a one-sided conversation.

“I hated homework as a kid,” she continued as she adjusted her long legs over Sherman. Given that Mia insisted on closing up the couch every morning, there was barely enough room for a girl and her pig. Not that Sherman seemed to mind. After finishing off the generic Corn Flakes and Cheerios, he was content to sleep the afternoon away just like Adeline and Brody.

Shirlene only wished she was as lucky. Since arriving at the trailer, she hadn’t slept more than a wink. Which was just another reason she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off a certain country boy. It appeared that all the studies were right: Sleep deprivation not only slowed down your reactions, but it impaired your decision-making skills.

In an attempt to keep her mind off the hillbilly on the roof, she continued to talk to herself. “Lordy, me and Colt used to get into it over my homework. I could think up every excuse under the sun not to do it—or take a bath—or pick up my room.”

“I thought Colt was your brother.”

The softly spoken words had Shirlene glancing over at the girl. Her glasses had slid down on her nose and those odd-colored eyes stared back at Shirlene.

“He is.” Shirlene lifted her legs off Sherman and sat up.

Mia tipped her head, her long ponytail brushing over her arm. The blond hair had Shirlene mentally cussing Twyla all over again. What had she been thinking letting a beauty-school dropout style her hair? Of course, what choice had she had with only twenty dollars and a Brody-cut?

“So why was it your brother’s job to get after you?” Mia asked. “Why didn’t your parents do it?”

Shirlene wasn’t one to air her dirty laundry. The past was the past, and history was best left in textbooks. But there was something in Mia’s eyes that made Shirlene make an exception. Something that spoke of times much harder than anything she and Colt had gone through.

“Colt watched out for me just like you watch out for your siblings,” she said. “My daddy died in a car crash when I was little, and my mama… wasn’t real good with kids.” She got to her feet and walked to the fridge. But she had no more than pulled out the orange juice container when Mia stopped her.

“We have to save that for Brody and Adeline.” Mia shot a nasty glance over at Sherman. “Seeing as how your pig has already eaten our breakfast for tomorrow.”

“Stop worrying, honey. I’ll get us more orange juice and cereal.” Still, she only splashed a small amount of juice in the Dixie cup.

“With what?” Mia asked. “Your good looks?”

“As a matter of fact… yes.” She pulled one of the folding chairs over to the cupboard. “My good looks have done just fine by me. Of course, lately I’ve run into a bit of a slump.”

“You call being evicted from your home a slump?” Mia stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Since only a few people looked at Shirlene like that—mostly Hope and Sherman—it was a little disconcerting. Especially since Mia was still wet behind the ears. Although wet behind the ears or not, the girl was smart enough to figure things out. Of course, Shirlene would bet that Jesse eavesdropping on her conversation with Mr. Peabody hadn’t hurt.

“Okay, so it’s more than a slump,” Shirlene conceded. She stood on the chair and felt around on the top of the cupboard. The cobwebs creeped her out, but she kept searching. “With my love of the finer things in life, I might’ve dug myself into a bit of a hole. But it’s nothing I can’t dig myself out of.” Amid the dirt and cobwebs, she finally found what she was looking for. She held the bottle up triumphantly. “See what a little perseverance will get you?”

Mia stared at the dusty bottle of vodka for only a second before she dropped her head into her folded arms. “Just great, Mia Michaels, the one person you ask for help turns out to be a narcissistic alcoholic without a penny to her name.”

“Now wait just one minute, sister.” Shirlene almost toppled off the chair. “I am not narcissistic!” The dust
from the top of the cabinet finally caught up with her, and she sneezed twice before she continued. “Nor am I an alcoholic.” She got down and tried to unscrew the lid on the bottle, but it was covered in grime and kept slipping through her fingers. She turned on the faucet, but even after holding it under the trickle of hot water for a good five minutes, it still wouldn’t budge.

She grabbed the old dishrag and wrapped it around the top. “I might have a margarita every now and again.”

Mia lifted her head. “Every now and again?”

“Every now and again,” Shirlene huffed as she placed the bottle between her knees and twisted as hard as she could. When she still couldn’t get it opened, she held it out to Mia. “You mind giving it a try, honey?”

The look Shirlene received was one of those teenage eye-rolls she’d seen, but had never had directed at her. Now that she had, she understood why wealthy parents sent their kids off to school.

“Just a couple a night, is all,” she defended herself. Except once the words were out, they sounded more incriminating than vindicating. “For the love of Pete!” She slammed the bottle down on the table. “I am not an alcoholic.”

“Shhh!” Mia glared at her. “You’ll wake the babies.”

Shirlene glared back. She wasn’t the type of woman to let her temper get the best of her, but she had had about enough of Mia’s superior attitude. Who did she think she was talking to, anyway? The girl was living in her trailer, drinking her water, and using the electricity she’d paid for. The teenager had no business pointing out her flaws when she was living off Shirlene’s charity.

Alcoholic? As if Shirlene would fall into that trap after living with an alcoholic mother.

Her gaze tracked over to the bottle. A bottle exactly like all the other bottles that her mother had stashed in every nook and cranny in an attempt to keep them hidden from Colt—who, when he found them, would pour them down the drain. Shirlene hadn’t gone on the bottle hunts with her brother. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with the clear substance that turned her mother into a sloppy drunk.

Until now.

Now she wanted the inch and a half of alcohol left in the bottle more than she wanted a dye job and decent haircut. Just one little drink to make the situation she found herself in more tolerable. One little drink to ease the tension in her shoulders and the throbbing at her temples. But before she could reach for the bottle, her gaze fell on the tablet that sat on the table. A tablet with a long column of figures and a total at the bottom. The total was barely readable, but the negative in front was a thick dark slash. The obvious display of Mia’s financial concerns caused Shirlene’s thirst to be squelched beneath a heavy dose of guilt.