Picking Roses Page 11

  “Yes. God. Oh, you want to go get tacos after we shop? I love tacos.”

  “You hate spicy food,” Rosie teased.

  “Yes, but the baby loves it! Just like its daddy.”

  “Where do you want to go? Taco Bueno? Jucy’s?” Rosie could murder a cheesecake chimichanga, but Jucy’s had cinnamon bites.

  “Yes. Either. Both. I’m easy.” Linds grinned over. “First though, flip-flops and you have to try on cute clothes so I can be envious of your tiny heinie.”

  “We need to get you more stretch mark cream, too.” Lindsay’s husband apparently loved to rub in the creamy, soothing stuff.

  Linds got a wickedly naughty grin on her face. “Yep. I’m telling you, honey. The best part about being this pregnant is the sex.”

  “The sex is pretty good without it.” Oh, it had been so long since she could tease about that without feeling like a liar.

  “Uh-huh. This is like magic.”

  “You’re lying!” She had given up on babies with Timmy. Could she let herself imagine that with Les?

  “Not even.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Well, maybe someday I’ll get to try it.” She could definitely see that. Babies with Les. Little blond cowboys and brunette girls wearing pink.

  Oh, please, she prayed. If You will it. I’d be a good momma and I’d love him forever, rodeo or not.

  “You will, honey.” Lindsay sounded so firm, so sure. “You were born to be a mom. And you’re what? Four years younger than me? You have tons of time.”

  “Thanks, Linds.” She hugged her best friend, cracking up when the baby tried to karate kick her. “Oh, wow. So strong!”

  “Right. Special teams, baby. Kicker.”

  She touched the hard belly, shook her head. “My godbaby. I’m so excited to meet him.”

  “Either way they’ll play football.”

  She laughed. “With Matt as a daddy? Absolutely.”

  “I’m so glad you called today. I was fixin’ to be all miserable.” Lindsay wiped her eyes, but Rosie didn’t mention it. She just handed over a Kleenex.

  “Me too.” She hooked her arm in Lindsay’s after her friend wiped. “Let’s go play, girlfriend.”

  She’d stress Les’ rodeoing later. When she was alone.

  * * * *

  Les was about fifteen minutes out of Longview when his phone rang. He hit the button on his dash, keying up his fancy hands-free gadget, a gift from his sister last year.

  “Hey, Lester.”

  Speak of the devil. “Hey, Hes. What’s up?”

  “I’m getting a pedicure. How’d you ride?” She loved to get an update, and pedicures made her feel guilty for sitting and doing nothing.

  “I did all right.” He’s doubled his entry fee and gas, but that wasn’t gonna pay a lot of bills.

  “That sounds cheery. How’s that pretty little girl you’re so taken with?”

  “She’s amazing.” A little freaked out. Beautiful.

  “So, when are you going to snatch her up?”

  “Soon, I hope.” Hell, he didn’t know what to do. He worked a dangerous job even at home. “She needs time to get used to me cowboying.”

  “Cowboying or rodeoing?” Hes’ voice was sharp as a tack.

  “Rodeoing. Her husband died riding bulls, Hester Ann.”

  He swore to God he could hear her eyes roll. “I’m fully aware of that, you asshole. You think I wouldn’t research the girl that took you away from the ranch?”

  “How?” He sounded like a rube. You could find anything on the Internet these days.

  “Google. Duh. The video of her husband is everywhere. That’s awful. I can’t imagine that. Like Lane Frost.”

  Lord. He’d never looked it up. “Thing is I can’t figure out how else to stay here with her.”

  “So, take her up with you. I mean, you can’t stay down there. It’s hot and we need you home.”

  “I want to, but she’s a bayou girl.” Was that a lame excuse? Maybe he was just afraid she’d say no.

  “What are you going to do, brother?”

  “I’m gonna see if the boss will take me back now instead of the end of the summer. If I give up the show, she might come with me, right?” He wanted to be with Rosie so much more than he wanted anything else. Time to frickin’ commit.

  “You know he will, and if she needs you to give it up, then…fuck her. She should be willing to risk it, just like you should be willing to give it up.”

  “She’s brave as hell, Hes. I know it. I just hate asking her to give up her whole life.” Although maybe he needed to let her make the decision. Shit, he didn’t know.

  “You should talk to her, huh? Let her know what’s important.” Hes was even more practical than he was.

  Yeah, talking wasn’t always his strong suit, but darn it, Rosie needed to hear some things. “I will. I promise.”

  “Good man. Go. Make with the whole girlfriend thing so you can come home. I miss you.”

  “We’ll have Italian.”

  “Cheap Italian, even. They opened a Beau Jo’s, Lester.”

  “Oh, damn and also, hell yes. I’ll be there soon.” Beau Jo’s. Mile High pizza. With honey for the crust. Uhn. He’d been to the original place in Idaho Springs many times.

  “You’d better be.” Hes laughed. “Tell her. She sounds like she’s worth it.”

  He nodded. She was. Rosie totally was his girl.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rose had the fried chicken done about the time she saw Les pull into the parking lot from the kitchen window.

  She always wondered how the ladies in the fifties fried chicken in pearls and frilly aprons and perfectly coiffed hair. Every time she cooked it, she ended up looking like a grease stain had given her a hug.

  She ran into the bedroom to change into a pair of shorts and a clean tank top, managing to scrub her face and pin her hair up in a mess before her cowboy made the stairs.

  Did she have time for lip gloss? She grabbed a tube of ChapStick so she could look…what? Kissable? Hi, I smell like batter and grease. Kiss me.

  She started giggling, and by the time Les walked in, she was laughing hard, holding her stomach.

  “Rosie? Hey, puppers, where’s your momma?” Les found her a few moments later, Pres trailing behind. “Hey, honey. You okay?”

  “I am. I’m a mess, but there’s homemade fried chicken.”

  “Smells real good.” Les seemed fine, no new bruises to be seen. His back would be all covered in them because bareback riding did that, but he didn’t seem to be moving too careful. Thank God.

  “It is. I stole a nibble.” She headed over for a kiss. “I boiled potatoes, but I didn’t know if you’d want mashed or potato salad.”

  “Whatever is easiest for you, sweet lady.” Les bent easily, taking her offered lips with a low hum of happy pleasure.

  Oh, he tasted like mint and happy man. She did love that, and Rosie clung to his upper arms, her body ready even if her brain said she needed to do something with those potatoes.

  “Mmm. Love coming home to those kisses, Rosie.”

  He straightened up, back popping. Poor baby. “Do you need some Tylenol, cowboy?”

  “Nope, I’m solid. Been doing some thinking, that’s it. That’s tough for my type.”

  She swatted his arm. “Dork.”

  “Well, now, you know it’s true.” Those blue eyes twinkled. “Feed me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Let me throw the green beans on and I’ll mash the potatoes. Do you need gravy?”

  “Not unless you want to make it. Yum.” His expression said oh, gravy, please.

  “I can make some up. Have a sit and I’ll stir while you share your thoughts.” She wanted to know what had gotten him so thoughtful.

  “Thanks, honey.” He grabbed a Coke out of the fridge. He moved easier in his skin today, as if he’d taken a weight off his mind.

  She poured out the grease from the frying pan and heated it up, then grabbed the corn s
tarch and the shaker bottle.

  “So you don’t use a roux?”

  “Listen to you!” She loved when Les knew something she didn’t expect him to. “I figured cream gravy would just be too heavy for this hot of a day.”

  “Chicken gravy, then. I do love homemade gravy.” Les made a show of lip smacking.

  “Well, thank goodness I’ve made lots, then.” Boys and their gravy. Rosie liked a little on her potatoes, but heaven knew Timmy had smothered his food in the stuff.

  “Yep.” Les sat back watched her, a smile crinkling up his laugh lines.

  “So, what’s on your mind, cowboy?” Salt, pepper, stir stir stir. She watched the wooden spoon scrape up all the good bits.

  “Well, I got to thinking on this trip. I think for the rest of the time I’m down here I’ll do some day labor. Construction or something. No more rodeoin’.”

  “What? Why?” She didn’t understand. Didn’t Les come here for the longer circuit? Because Texas was rodeo central and he could make money?

  “Well, honey, it upsets you so.” He seemed so pleased with himself.

  “But… You don’t have to give it up. I’ve been trying hard not to be a freak.”

  “You haven’t been.” Les spread his hands, his riding hand sporting blue and purple bruises. “I just know it worries you and you’re special to me.”

  She kept stirring, staring down into the gravy. “And I know it’s important to y’all cowboys. It’s like a drug or something. I wouldn’t ask you to change, Les. It wouldn’t be love if I did that.”

  “Oh, Rosie, it’s just a job. I make more money at it than I do at the ranch, you know?” He looked so…pleased with himself.

  Her hand tightened around the handle of the spoon and it shook a little. “Just a job?”

  “Well, yeah.” The chair scraped on the floor when he stood to move up behind her. “It’s just something I’m okay at.”

  “Then why do you do it? I mean, why would you?” Tears began to slide down her cheeks, hot and bitter. “Why would anyone do it?”

  “Well—I mean, I grew up with it, honey.” He put his hands on her shoulders, long fingers warm.

  “He died because it was the most important thing in the world. He died on the dirt because getting out there and winning was better than life. I could understand that. Loving something so much you couldn’t say no.” She’d loved Timmy that much and she was pretty afraid she loved Les that much too.

  “Now I’ve hurt your feelings.” Les squeezed her shoulders. “I wasn’t trying to.”

  “No. No, I’m not hurt, I’m angry. If you don’t love it, then it’s not worth it. You get hurt, Les. You get hurt for money. It’s not like you were doing something good, something honest and real and right! This is a fucking game and people die!” She clapped her hand over her mouth, shocked at herself. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” He reached past her and turned off the stove. Then Les spun her around and stared into her eyes. “No, you don’t be sorry. You lost someone you loved.”

  “I did. I loved him so much and now… God, I love you. I never thought I’d ever love another guy, much less a cowboy, and I’m trying so hard to be brave.” But she wasn’t. She was a damn coward—scared of losing Les, scared of living this crappy little life where she was just a…a… Just somebody who used to be married to a good guy.

  “I love you, too, honey. That’s what I’ll give up the game. You mean so much more to me than ropes and broncs.”

  “I…” She pushed into his arms, crying hard. She didn’t want him to think badly on her, but… She’d loved Timmy too.

  “Shh. I got you, honey.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want to burn your gravy.” They leaned together like little children, trapped in a hurricane. “I promised myself I wouldn’t love a cowboy again.”

  “Well, I reckon I’m glad you changed your mind.” He kept pressing kisses to her hair.

  “I hope so. It would suck if you didn’t care.” She met his eyes, knowing she looked a mess. “Because I’d be with you, even with the rodeo.”

  “I know you would, and that means the world to me.” Les stroked her hair. “You know, when I go back to ranch work, that’s not a cakewalk.”

  “I grew up on a rice farm, Les. I know from hard work. I’m not going to burst into tears from having to pay bills or anything. I just… I want to work for something.”

  “I want you.” Les kissed the tip of her nose.

  God, she hoped so. She hoped he would ask—well, that was a thought for another time.

  For right now she just wanted this to be real.

  More than that, she needed it to be real.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Les’ cell rang about seven a.m., waking him from a real nice dream. Then he felt Rosie pressed against him and realized it wasn’t a dream. No, sir, it was real.

  He slid out of bed, goosebumps rising on his skin from the AC. He grabbed his phone and Presley, tossing the wiggling bundle of white fur out to go to the bathroom.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Les.” Oh. Harris. The boss.

  “Hey, boss. How’s it going up there?” Les checked the flowery little calendar on the wall. Oh, good. He wasn’t supposed to check in for a few days yet.

  “Good, busy. How’s the riding?”

  “Well, it was going good until I decided to stop. My last ride was bumpy.” He rolled his eyes at his forearm, the stitches black and gross, then glanced over his shoulder. “The girl is going better.”

  “Yeah? You bringing her home, son? We could fix up that one frame house.”

  “I hope so, sir.” He was gonna ask finally. See what she said. “One way or the other, I’ll be up there to move the herd.”

  “Glad to hear to. We lost Montgomery. His momma’s got the cancer. He ain’t coming back, so I’ll need you to take charge.” Montgomery had been Mr. Harris’ foreman for…years. Since Les’ daddy had passed on.

  “Oh, damn. You got an address for him, I’ll send a note.” Surely Rosie had some of them cute cards that said sympathy shit.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do. You… You reckon you’re interested in the foreman slot? It’d mean a year-round gig.”

  “I’d love to, boss, but I can’t guarantee it. If Rosie is set on staying in Texas, well, I’ll have to come back to her.” The words surprised him when they came out. He’d never even thought about staying in Texas full-time.

  “Well, I’ll give you a bit to work that out, ’fore I find someone else.” The boss grunted. “You’re the one I want for the job. Always knew when Montgomery went I would ask.”

  “Thank you, Jim.” That made him proud, made his chest swell up. “I’d be tickled.”

  “Good. You tell that gal we’d be pleased to have her, if she should come.”

  “I will. Thank you. I’ll call in a week and a half or so, let you know when to expect me.”

  “Sounds good. Take care. Good ride.”

  “See you soon.” Les hung up, feeling like he was on a big old teeter-totter. Up and down, worse than riding any bronc. Change was tough for a stubborn guy like him.

  “Cowboy?” Soft hands slid up his back. “You okay?”

  “Hmm? Morning, Rosie.” He let her lean on him, warming up his skin. “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Happy. You want some coffee?” Her hands slid around his belly, loving on him.

  “I do.” He put his hands over hers, swaying gently.

  “That your boss on the phone?”

  “It was. He—” Shit, they hadn’t been together any time, really, but he couldn’t hide anything from her. “He wants me to run foreman.”

  “Oh, yeah? Good for you!” She kissed his shoulder, squeezed him. “Do you have to leave early?”

  “Not for another week or so.” He didn’t want to ask her yet. He wanted to feel her out on snow and mountains and how different Colorado was from Texas or Louisiana. He knew she loved him, but wha
t did that mean for the rest of their lives?

  “Oh, good.” She took a shaky little breath, held on.

  “Mmm.” Les let her for a moment, but then he pushed away enough to turn so he could kiss her. She lifted her face to him, easy as pie. Les kissed her, trying to be gentle, but he was a little nervous, a little afraid. So he was a bit clumsy.

  Rosie chuckled, hands framing his face. “It’s okay, cowboy. I know you can’t stay here forever.”

  “I-I want to be with you, honey. One way or the other.”

  “I know.” Her eyes were shining, staring up at him. “I’m gonna miss you, so bad.”

  “You could come with me.” Okay, so much for not asking now. He just blurted it out.

  “Is there a place for me there? Work for me to do?”

  “The boss says he would redo the old foreman’s house. Been empty a bit, because Montgomery stayed in the bunkhouse. Might take until spring to get it fixed up.” His heart started to pound. “Work, well, I reckon we’d find something for you to do for work. Hell, Harris would pay you to make pralines and caramels.”

  “Well, we should talk about it then. Plan. If we have until spring I’ll start gussying up my resume and seeing what I need to do to move.” That was his dear, practical girl. So ready to tie her wagon to his, but wanting to do something.

  “We should.” He would come back here if she wouldn’t go north. In the spring after he’d fulfilled his duty to Harris.

  “We’ll figure something out. Assuming some pretty Colorado cowgirl doesn’t steal your heart away in the meantime.”

  “Well, they had years to steal me, and it took you to do it.” He grinned down at her.

  “I was busy being sad and stuff. Mourning.” She leaned a little. “Timmy wouldn’t’ve liked you. He would have been jealous. I think…I think he’d understand, though. That I fell in love.”

  “You think so?” He hoped so. He sure hoped a cowboy like that would want his lady to be happy.

  “I do.” Her chuckle was soft. “Not that I fall for cowboys, you know.”

  “Nope. Not a bit.” He laughed, feeling lighter now.