Slow Talkin' Texan. Mary Baxter Lynn
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“That goes without saying.”
Porter handed Matthew to her.
“Is steak all right for dinner?” Bonnie asked.
“I might not be home till late, but I’ll let you know.”
Porter noticed the frown that suddenly doused Bonnie’s smile, but he didn’t comment on it. Not only did she love to clean house, but she loved to cook. If he didn’t have so much land and so many cattle to care for, he’d have to watch his waistline.
A few minutes later, Porter climbed into his fancy truck and headed toward the store, knowing he should be in the pasture mending that south fence. He would take care of that tomorrow if Joe, his foreman, didn’t get to it.
With the business and the ranch, there never seemed to be enough hours in the day, especially because he always tried to make time for Matt. That was a must. His son would always come first, no matter what.
His son.
What a perfect thought on a perfect summer day, he told himself, as he swung into his parking slot at the store a short time later.
“Morning.”
Porter climb out of the cab and watched as his friend and manager, George Hays, limped toward him. George was another person he couldn’t imagine doing without. In his late fifties, George had been injured in ’Nam. Even with a badly mangled leg, he was a workhorse. The store was an awesome responsibility, and George handled it and the customers like a pro.
But unlike him, George needed to watch his waistline. In fact, he needed to go on an outright diet, Porter thought, worried that his friend might have a stroke. Although he didn’t drink beer, George had the proverbial beer-belly.
“Don’t say a damn word,” George grumbled as they walked into the building and made their way to the coffee room at the back.
“I don’t recall opening my mouth.”
George glared at him before filling a cup with coffee. “But you were thinking it.”
Porter grinned, then filled his own cup. “Hell, don’t climb all over me. You know what you have to do. The doctor’s already warned you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Porter shook his head, sat down at the round table and remained silent, while George followed suit.
“So what else is on your mind?”
Porter narrowed his gaze. “What makes you think there’s anything?”
“’Cause I know you.”
“You old coot, you just think you know me.”
“Let’s have it.”
Porter lifted the cup and blew on the liquid, his eyes on George. After taking a sip, he said, “I met a woman.”
George harrumphed.
“I’m serious.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“After Wanda, I was under the impression you’d sworn off women.”
“I had. I have, I mean.”
“You can’t have it both ways.” George didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm.
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
George chuckled. “Okay, you’ve got my curiosity roused. Who is she?”
Porter told him, then listened as laughter bent George double. “So Matt christened her real good. And in the church, too. What a hoot!”
“That he did, and that it was.”
George chuckled again. “So what’s next?”
“Don’t know.”
And he didn’t. After Wanda left him, he had indeed sworn off women. So far, he’d kept that vow. But after meeting Ellen Saxton, he was having second thoughts—big time. Under the circumstances, what man wouldn’t? He was convinced she was the prettiest woman he’d seen in a long time, with her strawberry blond hair, periwinkle eyes and a body that made him sit up and take notice whether he wanted to or not.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I’d like to see her again, but she’s as uptight as she is pretty. Unfortunately.”
“Too bad. Them uptight women are hell to handle.”
“You’re telling me. I seem to have a knack for getting involved with prissy, independent women.”
“Then leave her alone.”
“Afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why the hell not? If you’re hankering to play again, this town’s full of easy women.” George winked. “If you know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, all right. But there’s something about this particular one that’s special, that intrigues me.”
“And you’re hell-bent on finding out what that something is.”
“You got it.”
George stood and peered down at his boss. “Want some advice?”
“Nope.”
“I’m gonna give it anyway.”
“Figured you would.”
“No matter how intrigued you get, keep your damn fly zipped. Okay?”
Four
What was that noise?
Ellen paused just inside the back door of the shop and listened, certain she heard something, something that sounded very much like smothered giggles. Of course, that couldn’t be. It was only a smidgen past eight-thirty in the morning. Her part-time helper, who was a college student, wasn’t due in until around ten, opening time.
Yet Ellen heard the sound again. She frowned at the same time that her heart upped its beat. Could the noise be rats? God forbid. That thought panicked her more than an intruder.
Easing down her carryall and purse, she tiptoed toward the front of the shop, only to pull up short and stare, her mouth gaping.
Janis Waller, her employee, was going at it hot and heavy with some young man. She had no idea who he was. His back was to her. Nonetheless, she could hear the sucking and moaning sounds resulting from their kissing and fondling. From where she stood, she could even see him squeezing one of Janis’s breasts.
When she finally found her voice, Ellen snapped, “The party’s over, kids.”
If she had screamed fire, they couldn’t have been more stunned. They broke apart instantly. Janis’s hand flew to her mouth, while her eyes, wide and round, landed on Ellen.
“Uh, Ms. Saxton, I didn’t expect—” she stammered.
“That’s obvious.”
Red stained the petite redhead’s cheeks as she faced the young man. Though his back was still to Ellen, she sensed he was as shaken as his girlfriend. His shoulders were as rigid as a block of wood, a block of wood that seemed suddenly familiar.
“Maybe you should introduce me to your friend,” Ellen said with a coolness she was far from feeling.
The red stain in Janis’s cheeks flared even more as the boy inched around. For a moment Ellen simply stared into his ashen face, trying not to show her shock and anger.
“Hello, Kyle.”
“Hi, Aunt Ellen.”
Another silence lasted for several heartbeats. Ellen broke it