As Rand got ready for church the next morning, she was preoccupied with thoughts of Jake and her insane reaction to his touch. For a moment, it had seemed as though he was going to kiss her, but she knew that couldn’t be it. Jake liked girls that were ultrafeminine, and she would probably break something if she tried on a pair of heels. No, Jake wasn’t interested in her, but something was going on. She just didn’t know what.
She walked out of her bedroom, trying not to trip as Scout weaved in and out of her legs. She stopped briefly to fill Scout’s bowl. The bipolar calico growled while she ate, as if Rand was going to take her food away.
“You know, for a cat that would have died without me, you sure are an ungrateful little snot.”
A low growl was her answer as she walked out the front door and across the large porch. She stared out at the ranch as she stepped down the stairs. Green fields were surrounded by trees, with a creek running just beyond. It was a beautiful piece of land, but to her, it was more than that. This was her home. She’s spent the better part of her life putting her blood, sweat, and tears into it. Her granddaddy’s will stated if she didn’t marry, the ranch would go to her only other relative, her cousin Percy. Percy lived in Chicago and had no interest in the Double C, unless he could sell it for a profit.
Over my dead body.
As she climbed into the truck, she kept thinking about her choices as far as men went, but the only man who seemed to fit was Doctor Jay.
The image of Jake pushing her hair back flashed in her mind, and she shivered.
Well, not the only man, but the only man who would work.
Pulling out onto the road, she cursed herself for obsessing. She had gone twenty-five years without obsessing about a man, except for maybe Branson, but he was a yellow-livered dog. He wasn’t worth the cow shit on her worst pair of boots, and she still kicked herself for thinking there might have been more than met the eye. Granted she had been barely eighteen at the time, just a dumb kid, but after what her no-good daddy had done to her mama, she should have been able to see right through him.
She drove through the heart of Loco, Texas and smiled at the Closed signs in the windows. Most of the shop owners took Sunday as their day of rest seriously, with the only exception being the gas station at the end of town. The old buildings had been repaired and repainted over the years and had adopted the “loco” theme for nearly every business. Whether it was Crazy Al’s Food and Drug or Nuttier than a Fruitcake Bakery, the town’s gimmick worked well.
She pulled into the church parking lot and went inside the big doors, sneaking past a group of women yammering and giggling. One of them looked up and called, “Oh, Miranda, how are you doing?”
Rand winced at the use of her name in that sickly sweet tone that reminded her of every sharp dig she’d been hit with in high school and turned to face Kimberly Taggert. The short blonde woman should have grown out of bullying after graduating high school, but for some reason, she continued to draw pleasure from tormenting Rand.
“I heard about your predicament. It’s really unfair of your granddaddy to put so much pressure on you, bless your heart. I mean, who could find a husband in three months, let alone someone like you?” Kim said, feigning sympathy.
Rand wanted to sock the fake little tart. “How did you know about my granddaddy’s will?”
Kim’s smile was sweet as honey, but her eyes twinkled with malicious glee. “Why, I heard from my mother, who heard it from Greta Johnson, who was told by Mr. Cranston’s secretary, Mabel.”
Rand wanted to throttle all of them, starting with Kim. Swallowing her natural urge to call her something as vile as she was, Rand simply stated, “Well, thank you for your concern, but I’ll be just fine.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will be.” Rand knew she was just setting up for the kill and wasn’t surprised when she continued, “After all, you always have Earl Humphries. We all know how much he adores you.”
Rand clenched her fists and stepped toward Kim. Earl was in his fifties, and about as friendly as a cottonmouth. Most of the town avoided him, but she loved the cranky old goat like a father. The harpies could pick at her all they wanted, but if they started getting on Earl, she was going to make them sorry. Church or not, God would understand.
“I’d be lucky to have him. Earl’s a good man.”
One of the other women piped in. “You mean ornery and mean. No wonder you two are so close. Like is attracted to like, I guess.
Rand was ready to leap at them when a strong arm slipped around her shoulders and a deep voice said, “Guess that means me too, since Rand and I are such good friends.”
Rand didn’t normally enjoy being rescued, but as she was an inch from starting a brawl in church, she let Jake handle the vicious twits.
Kim stepped forward, looking contrite. “We were just teasing Miranda, Jake. You know how we girls play.”
“Oh yes, I know how you can be, Kim.” His brittle expression changed as he looked down at Rand, and she felt better as he guided her around and inside. “Red and I saved you a seat.”
She didn’t even bother turning around, just gave the group of women a very unflattering gesture, causing gasps of outrage. A satisfied grin spread over her lips, and she slipped her arm around Jake’s waist. “Have I mentioned lately that you can be a pretty okay guy sometimes?”
He squeezed her close. “Only okay sometimes? I’m awesome all the time.”
She rolled her eyes as he led her to her seat between Red and him. She had to step over Jake’s mother to get to her seat, and Karen Hansen squeezed her hand as she passed. “Good morning, Miranda.”
Jake’s mother had always been kind to her, and she squeezed her hand back. “Morning, ma’am.”
When Rand flopped down next to Red, he asked, “What kept you?”
“Kim Taggert wanted to congratulate me on my upcoming nuptials,” she said tartly, still burning with frustration that she had never been able to put that woman in her place.
“What a witch with a capitol B.” Red patted her leg comfortingly, and the touch made Rand smile. As much as Red tried to be obnoxious and sometimes even a little sexist, he had always taken her side. Even when she’d kicked Ray Bartman in the balls for telling her she couldn’t play football with them because she was a girl. Ray had tackled her and pulled back his arm to pop her one, but Red had picked him up and body-slammed him. After that, Ray had left her alone.
He usually ruined these glowing moments of sweetness, though, and sure enough, he added, “Of course, next time she starts something, make sure you wait for the hair-pulling and shirt-ripping until I get there.”
Rand didn’t even get to respond before a gloved hand whacked Red from the other side. “Ow! Ma!”
Hannah Calhoun scowled at her only son and hissed, “You apologize to Miranda and hush your mouth.”
“Sorry, Rand,” he muttered.
Jake chuckled on the other side of her, and his mother pinched him. “Rudeness is never funny, Jacob.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he acknowledged.
Rand caught the twinkle in his eye and hid a smile. Everyone always called her the mischief maker in their little trio, but Jake could stir up as much if not more trouble. He was just really good at charming his way out of it.
The sermon began, and Rand did her best to stay awake. Glancing around the crowded church, she caught sight of Doctor Jay sitting next to his veterinary assistant, Jamie Sullivan. Jamie and she had always been friendly, if not friends. It helped that they were the black sheep of the town, the weirdoes that didn’t quite fit. Jamie’s brown hair was piled up on her head, stripes of platinum and pink racing through the dark strands, and a tiny top hat in fire-engine red perched on them.
Rand grinned. Jamie didn’t give a tinker’s damn what anyone thought, and Rand appreciated that quality in her. She wished she could see more than the back of Doctor Jay’s light blond head, but maybe afterward she could catch him outside.
The service went on and on, making Rand squirm. She never had been very good at sitting still, especially when she was on a mission.
Jake’s hand landed on her knee. “Quit fidgeting.”
The warmth of his palm through her jeans sent tingles of awareness up her leg.
Before she could say anything, he removed it, wiping his palm on his own jean-clad thigh like there was something on it.
What the hell was that about?
* * *
After the service, Rand drove to Earl Humphries’s house. She’d stopped to pick up the prebaked crumb apple pie from her freezer, as was tradition.
Earl’s place was a one-story ranch house, with trees planted for privacy and several large hounds patrolling the property. Earl didn’t like solicitors knocking at his door, and all these things made his home look scary and haunted. When they’d been kids, she’d led Red and Jake over to steal one of Earl’s hens, but he’d caught her hopping the back fence. He’d grabbed her by the scruff, and she’d growled, “Let me go, butthead!”
He’d just laughed, which had surprised her more than anything else that followed. He hadn’t bawled her out like she thought he would. He’d taken her back to his house and had her call her father, who didn’t answer. Earl had asked her gruffly if she was hungry, and she’d barked a no at him. He’d made her an egg salad sandwich anyway and asked her questions, which she’d refused to answer, although she did eat the sandwich. Afterward, he’d driven her back to her home and warned her, “Now, I catch you stealing again, and I won’t be so nice next time.”
The next day, she’d gone out to play and found the red hen she’d tried to steal in a crate on the porch, a sack of feed next to her. Rand had never owned a pet before, and filled with excitement, she’d taken the hen into her room and given her a bowl of food and water. After pulling out her crayons and some paper, she’d drawn her best picture of herself holding Henny, as she named her, and wrote “Thank you” at the bottom. She’d run most of the way out to Earl’s place and slipped the picture into his mail slot, only to have the door open.
“What are you doing here?” he’d asked menacingly.
He’d been such a big man to a seven-year-old, but she’d just stuck her chin out, pretending to be braver than she was. “I was just thanking you for my hen.”
“Well, don’t be sneaking around like a burglar. You come to the door proper and thank me.”
She’d bent down and picked up the picture she’d drawn and handed it to him. “Thank you, sir.”
He’d taken the picture, and a ghost of a smile spread over his lips before he’d gruffly said, “I was just about to sit down with a slice of pie. You want to join me?”
That had started many afternoons spent at Earl’s, listening to stories, both true and fishy. When she’d moved out to her granddaddy’s home, it was too far to walk, but her granddaddy had driven her out once a week on Sunday after church. If R.E. ever thought it was strange that Earl had taken a shine to his granddaughter, he never said. Earl and R.E. had enjoyed a mutual respect that always consisted of nods and comments about the weather.
The hounds met her as she pulled up, baying at her loudly and pulling her back into the present. She got out of the truck and tossed two bones to them. “Shut up, you obnoxious creatures!”
“Don’t you talk to my dogs like that, missy,” a gravelly voice shouted from the front porch.
Rand grinned up at the ramrod-straight man standing on the porch.
“I’ll talk to them any way I want to, old man!” She grabbed the pie and ice cream, hopped up the squeaky steps, and kissed his stubbled cheek. “You’re looking as ugly as ever.”
He grunted, rubbing his cheek where she’d kissed him. “And you’re still in need of a caning.”
She laughed as she balanced the grocery bag and held the door open. “Well, come on, I want to get this pie in quickly. I’m hungrier than a bear in a berry patch.”
He took the door in one hand, shooing her in, and she caught the smell of cedar wood and Old Spice. It was a comforting scent. It had always calmed her, like the smell of her granddaddy’s pipe tobacco or her mother’s perfume.
She closed the door and headed straight to the oven to preheat it before she put the ice cream in the freezer. “I don’t suppose you made lunch?”
“Egg sandwiches in the fridge.”
Rand’s stomach growled, and she opened the fridge quickly, grabbing the plates like a starving woman. She put one in front of him before plopping down in her own chair. “How’re you doing, Earl?”
“Alive and kicking. How’re you? I figure you’re missing your granddaddy pretty bad.” He took a bite of his sandwich and watched her as he chewed.
Her stomach churned as she thought about the will. “Granddaddy left me a stipulation in his will. He wants me to get married in three months, or the Double C goes to Percy.”
Earl’s bushy black eyebrows snapped low over his blue eyes. “That’s dumber than a box of rocks! Whaddya need a husband fer? Marriage ain’t nothing but a way for someone else to get ahold of your money and squeeze the life outta ya.”
Rand bit back a smile. “And the trouble of finding someone willing to marry me, move in with me, and stay put for a year.”
He took a bite of the sandwich and griped, “He must have been sniffin’ cow shit too long. Stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. You can’t get out of it?”
Rand shook her head. “Nope. Ironclad and legal as can be. So now I just have to find someone who fits the bill.”
Earl was just starting to go a little gray in his hair and wrinkly around the mouth and eyes, and the dark expression exaggerated these features.
Suddenly, his face shifted into an ornery grin. “Well, I’d marry ya, but I’m too damn old to change my ways.”
The oven dinged, and she pinched his whiskered cheek as she passed. “Confirmed old bachelor that you are, you’d bring all kinds of problems to the marriage, and I’d kick you out after a week.”
He slapped his knee and hooted while she put the pie in to warm. “Too true, missy. It’s hard to change fifty odd years of habits in one year. So who do ya have in mind to hitch up with?”
She sat back down and plopped her head on the table with a groan. “Ugh, I don’t know.”
A hard hand patted her shoulder. “It’ll be all right. Any man worth his spit would be lucky to have ya.”
She sat up and blinked at him. “Why, Earl, that was positively sweet.”
His cheeks flamed, and he glared at her. “Just shut up and tell me about the rest of your week. No need in making something out of nothing.”
With a secret smile, Rand did as he asked. When she got to her possible husbands and her list of requirements, Earl asked, “What’s the matter with Torch? He ain’t a bad sort, smart as a potato, but he does good work on cars.”
Rand chuckled at Earl’s nickname for Red. “I couldn’t imagine living with Red. And he’s worth more as a friend than as a husband.”
“What about the other one? Jakey boy. I’ve heard the girls in town carrying on about how attractive he is.” Earl batted his lashes and pretended to swoon for emphasis.
Rand’s mouth kicked up into a smirk. “Jake’s a tomcat. He’d never be able to go without sex.”
Earl looked her over seriously. “You telling me you expect some man to marry you, and he’s not even getting any benefits?”
Rand’s face flamed, and she grouched, “What is it with men about perks and marriage? This is just a temporary fix to an impossible situation.”
“All I know is, if I was gonna be married to a pretty girl, I’d want the whole enchilada.”
The oven beeped, and she went to check the pie. Satisfied it was warm enough, she put the pie on the cooling rack. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not pretty, then.”
“Who the hell told you that? I’ll kick their ass clear up between their ears.”
“You don’t have to say things like that, Earl. I know what I look like.” She turned to give the loyal old grouch a smile.
Earl stood and walked toward her with an angry gait, but when he patted her cheek, the touch was gentle. “What’s not to like about you? You got all your eyes and ears, and your nose ain’t crooked. You’re fine. Next person to tell you any different, you send ’em my way and I’ll learn ’em something.”
You dear old cuss, you’re going to make me cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat and croaked, “I’ll do that. Now move out of my way so I can slice this pie.”
* * *
Rand pulled up to the house a little before four and headed straight out to feed. She’d done most of the work in the morning, so it was mainly just second feeding and checking the fences. Saddling up Sun, her red roan quarter horse, she went about her chores, her thoughts heavy. By the time she was done, she couldn’t wait to make a couple of bean-and-cheese burritos and relax. She took off her work gloves and stuffed them into the pocket of her jacket as she walked toward the house.
As she got closer, she saw there were things on her porch. Lots of things that had no business being there. She sped up her pace and took the steps two at a time, gasping.
There were teddy bears, cards, and a shit ton of flowers. Even a stuffed horse hung out by the door. She picked up one of the cards and opened it. The words, “Thinking of you” were typed across the front along with a shy-looking bear. Inside, she read:
Dear Miss Coleman,
I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner Wednesday night? I could come by and pick you up, and we could go anywhere you want. I hope you enjoy the flowers and look forward to hearing from you.
Yours,
Fred Meyer
She stared at the card. Freddy Meyer? He’d been in Jake and Red’s grade and ran his dad’s electronic store. He was a nice guy, just five foot three with a stutter.
She got a real ugly feeling that all the men in Loco knew about her little problem. When she opened up another card and read a list three pages long about why Woody Merrill would make a good husband, she wanted to scream. She leaned over to gather up the rest of the cards to take them inside and stopped when she heard a truck coming up the drive. Jake’s beat-up Ford pulled to a stop at the end of the porch.
Perfect timing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked as he got out and came around the side. Red hopped out of the passenger side, and her confusion increased. “And you too? Do your mamas know you aren’t going to be there for dinner?”
Red had a wide smirk on his face, and even Jake’s mouth twitched with mirth. “We heard you’d had some visitors. Decided to come out and make sure you were properly chaperoned.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Y’all are a bunch of jackasses.”
Red stepped onto the porch and picked up a couple of vases. “Well, lead the way in, princess. You never know when the next Prince Charming is gonna show up on your step.”
Jake picked up a bunch of stuffed animals, and he and Red followed her inside. She set the first stack of cards down, and when they finished bringing the rest of the offerings in, she went to the cupboard to pull out the burrito fixings.
“Aren’t you going to open the cards?” Jake asked from behind her.
“Not with y’all hovering around,” she snapped, slamming a pan down on the stove.
Suddenly, she heard a ripping noise, and Red’s deep voice read, “Miss Coleman, I have enclosed a poem for your enjoyment and was hoping maybe we could meet up for food…”
Without warning, she spun around and launched herself at Red, grabbing his ear. “You drop that right now, Red Calhoun!”
Red howled. “Jake, get a hold of this wildcat. I want to read this poem! I’m betting it’s a dandy, coming from Buddy Martin.”
Jake wrapped a strong arm around her waist from behind and lifted her away from Red. Not before she got in another good ear yank, though.
“You put me down right now, Jake, or I’ll make you pay!”
It was futile, though. Jake was at least six inches taller, and her feet were several inches off the floor.
“I’ll put you down as soon as you ask real nicely,” he said, his voice softly teasing.
Rand was aware of his arms settled under her breasts and that his breath was warm against the side of her neck. “Fine, horse’s ass, please put me down.”
“Now was that so hard? Just relax, and I’ll let you go. No sudden movements. I would like to keep all my parts.”
As he lowered her back to the floor, their bodies pressed so close, her shirt rode up into the small of her back. A light-headed giddiness moved from her toes to her cheeks, and it was like someone was poking her with tiny needles everywhere. She turned in his arms, and her mouth was just under his full lips. His green eyes had tiny flecks of yellow at the center.
“Please, let me go.”
He stared back at her, and she felt his hesitation. In fact, she could have sworn his head dropped a fraction of an inch before Red recited, “Brown eyes the color of turned soil, hair so cute in a ponytail, Miranda, oh how I want to kiss, each freckle on your cheeks and lips…” Red’s head came up, and he squinted at her. “Do you have freckles on your lips?”
She lifted her hands to cover her mouth, and Jake released her as he answered the question. “No, she doesn’t have any freckles on her lips.”
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she stepped away from him and went back to the stove, clearing her throat. “Do you guys want a couple of burritos?”
“Yeah, sure,” Red said. She turned to look at Jake, who was watching her intently, like he’d never seen her before.
“Do you want some, Jake?” she asked, silently pleading that he’d stop staring at her. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was pretty sure she had just wanted Jake to lay a kiss on her. And something about the way he was looking at her made her think he was thinking about the same thing.
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” He walked over to the pile of cards and picked up another one.
She went to the fridge to get the cheese, then listened to the two men muttering and mumbling as she finished making the burritos.
“If y’all could stop going through my personal correspondences, food’s done.”
The two men dropped the cards and walked over to sit at the table as Rand pulled plates from the cupboard. When everything was on the table, Rand and Jake reached for a plate of burritos at the same time, and their hands bumped.
She pulled her hand back as if it had been scalded. “Sorry, you go.”
He shook his head and protested, “No, you cooked.”
Red looked between them and reached out to scoop up three burritos. “I don’t know what all this politeness is about, but I’m hungry.”
“Animal,” Rand snapped.
Red tried to reply, but his mouth was full. Jake laughed and reached for a couple of burritos. “Maybe you should send him to the barn, Rand.”
The tension broken, Rand grabbed one of the burritos and ate it in silence, sneaking glances at Jake out of the corner of her eye. He really was a fine specimen of a man, if you were looking for a handsome heartbreaker. Which she was not.
But still, she wondered what it all was about anyway. She remembered getting stuck in the bathroom in high school, trying to avoid Kim and her howler monkey friends, and listening to Patty Baker talk about making it with Paul Grossman in the back of his daddy’s Ford and thinking that it sounded really awful. But if it was so horrible, then why did they keep doing it?
She’d spent the last twenty-five years keeping men at bay, unwilling to take that next step that would make her vulnerable, and it had left her wondering. Curious.
Remember, curiosity killed the cat.