Saddles and Sin, page 8
Laura Mae nodded slowly and some of the usual warmth returned to her brown eyes. “Point taken.” She sighed. “You’re right. I didn’t give her a chance, even when she was trying to be helpful with the dishes and everything. I’ll do better from now on. I promise. Forgive me?”
“Of course,” Bubba said with a smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, reaching out to pat his hand. “You’re a good man, Bubs. I just want to see you end up with a good woman. If you think Marisol might be that woman, then I’m happy for you.”
He shrugged. “We’re just friends, Mom.”
“And I’m a monkey’s uncle,” she said, laughing when Bubba did a poor job of concealing his surprise. “There’s something between you two, baby, and it certainly doesn’t seem purely friendly. But whatever y’all decide to be to each other, I’ll make sure Marisol feels welcome.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Bubba shoved his chair away from the table, circling to give his mom a kiss on the cheek before starting toward his room.
“You want something to eat?” Laura Mae called after him. “I can warm up some lasagna.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” he called over his shoulder.
He’d lost his appetite for food, beer, company, or anything else that wasn’t Marisol. He’d give her time, but if she hadn’t come back to the ranch by tomorrow after he finished work, he was going into town to track her down. He didn’t want to upset her, but she had to realize this tension between them wasn’t going away. What they both wanted was out in the open, and there was no going back.
The only way forward was to find a way to balance business with pleasure. He wanted Marisol by his side as he moved forward with his career, but he also wanted her in his bed when their work was done, and he wasn’t giving up on either without a fight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Marisol thought she’d have trouble falling asleep, but she had evidently worried herself into a state of exhaustion. The second her head hit the pillow she was out, and she slept hard—deep and dreamless—the whole night through, only awakening when the sun crept across her pillowcase early the next morning.
Her eyes blinked open, but it took several moments of squinting into the pale yellow light filling the unfamiliar room and a long stare at the white wicker fan spinning above her head to remember where she was. When she did, the shame of the night before came rushing back, making her groan as she rolled over to bury her face in the pillow.
In the light of day, the way she’d kissed and run was even more mortifying.
How could she ever look Robert in the eye again, let alone manage his career?
A part of her was tempted to lock herself in Mia’s guest bedroom and never come out, but eventually the call of nature forced her to slip into last night’s clothes and down the hallway to the bathroom. When she emerged, Mia was in the kitchen pouring coffee.
“How are you feeling?” Mia’s curly red hair was sticking out in a million directions and her fuzzy pink bathrobe was tattered and pilling, but she still managed to look adorable. “Up for coffee?”
Marisol blushed as she ran a hand through her own disheveled hair. “Much better, and yes, please.”
“Cream and sugar?” Mia reached for another mug from a crowded shelf above the coffee maker, where mismatched plates and cups from a dozen different sets fought for space.
“Black is fine.” Marisol sank into a well-padded chair at the 1950s Formica table, admiring the cluttered coziness of the space. The kitchen at her own apartment was such a pit she hadn’t cooked in ages, preferring to grab food on the go and avoid eating near the sink of dirty dishes Carrie and Mac left festering for days, but Mia’s kitchen made her want to pull out her recipe for conchas and whip up a batch of sweet bread. It was welcoming, like the woman herself.
“Black. That’s hardcore.” Mia set a mug of steaming black coffee in front of Marisol before settling into the chair across from her. “I need two teaspoons of sugar and at least that much cream. I like to use heavy whipping cream, for extra deliciousness.”
Marisol took a deep breath, inhaling the nutty scent wafting from the fresh brew. “I didn’t start drinking coffee until I moved out of my parents’ house. Back then, I was so poor I couldn’t afford milk, so I got used to drinking it without.”
Mia nodded sympathetically. “I remember those days. When I was going to undergrad at Baylor, Tulsi, Clem, and I lived in the tiniest apartment in Waco. The only one who ate well was Clem. Tulsi and I survived on Ramen, oatmeal, and whatever else was on sale at the ninety-nine cent store.”
“Sometimes they have eggs,” Marisol said. “Those are exciting days.”
“I knew you were a kindred spirit,” Mia said, grinning over the rim of her mug as she took a sip of coffee. “Now if we can get you and Bubba to quit fussing, all will be right with the world.”
Marisol’s smile faded. “Did he…say something?”
“He didn’t have to. I’ve known him since we were fetuses. I know when he’s upset, just like I know when he’s into someone.” Mia sat her mug down and leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands. “Though I can’t say I’ve seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even his ex, Casey, who he pined over forever when she moved away. So the only question is…are you as into him?”
“We work together.” Marisol dropped her gaze to her coffee cup, wishing she’d headed straight for the door the minute she woke up. “I think we should keep things professional.”
“But is that what you really want?” Mia prodded. “Given, this is coming from a woman who loves Bubba like a brother, so I’m admittedly biased, but he’s a really good catch, Marisol. I mean, he’s obviously easy on the eyes, but he’s also one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. He would give his life for a friend in a heartbeat.”
“I know,” Marisol said, keeping her eyes on the steam rising from her mug.
“Seriously,” Mia continued. “He was there when I was going through a really hard time in my life recently, but no matter how messed up I was, he never gave up on me. I don’t know what I would have done without him. That man is a treasure, and that’s the truth.”
“I believe you.” Marisol lifted her eyes and forced a smile, sensing this intervention wasn’t going to end until she made it clear to Mia she understood where she was coming from. “I know he’s a really good friend, and I admire him a lot, as a singer and a person.”
“But…” Mia prodded, nailing Marisol with a compassionate, yet take-no-prisoners look that reminded her a lot of Robert’s. But for some reason it was easier for her to be honest with Mia, even though they’d only just met.
Probably because you’re not working with her, or so attracted to her you have to devote half your energy to not jumping her bones.
“But I’m not ready for a relationship,” Marisol said with a shrug. “And Robert isn’t up for anything casual, so…”
“I wasn’t ready for Sawyer when he came into my life.” Mia cupped her hands around her mug as she leaned back in her chair. “I’d been in a bad relationship, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for another one. But you don’t turn your back on a man like him. Opportunities for something real, with someone wonderful, don’t come around every day.”
“Where is Sawyer?” Marisol asked, glancing over her shoulder at the open door to Mia’s bedroom. “I thought you two were living together.”
“He left for work early.” Mia narrowed her eyes. “And don’t think it’s going to be that easy to change the subject, missy.”
Marisol couldn’t help but smile, no matter how uncomfortable this conversation was making her. “Was it that obvious?”
Mia shook her head, sending her fuzzy curls bobbing gently around her face. “No, but I was on the opposite side of this conversation not too long ago. I remember how scary it can be to think about opening yourself up to someone new after you’ve been hurt.”
Marisol’s smile slipped. “I was in a relationship that ended badly, but it’s more than that. There are…other factors.”
“Like what?” Mia asked, hurrying on when Marisol visibly balked at the idea of going into the nasty mess with her family, or any of the rest of it. “I don’t mean to be nosy. I just want you to know that I like you, and it’s clear Bubba adores you. And I think…maybe you have a thing for him, too.”
Marisol sighed, a sound filled with so much longing it was a confession of its own.
“I thought so,” Mia said softly. “It really would be a shame if you two don’t give things a chance. Working together doesn’t have to be a deal breaker. You’re both grown-ups, and it’s not like you’re in the army. You’re in the music business. It’s an industry practically built on breaking the rules.”
Marisol nodded, but she didn’t look up from her coffee after she took another sip. She didn’t know what to do with all the conflicting thoughts and feelings swirling inside of her. What Mia was saying made sense, but Mia knew Robert as a friend. Men were understanding of things in their friends that they weren’t in their lovers. Robert had stood by Mia as she worked through her issues, but he might still walk away from Marisol as soon as he got a good look at the scars on her heart.
She’d pulled her professional life together, but emotionally, she was still a mess. Until now, that hadn’t affected her work, but with Robert, everything was bleeding together, and she didn’t know how to stop it without cutting things off between them completely. But the thought of never seeing him again, never learning how the unfinished songs they’d been writing together ended, or simply seeing him smile, made it feel like a knife was twisting in her gut.
“I don’t know if I’d be good for him,” she finally said, heart beating faster as the unusually frank words escaped her lips. “And I don’t know if I could handle it if we got involved and he decided my baggage was too much.”
“Well, Bubba’s a pretty tough guy,” Mia said. “He can handle a lot, and he’s not prone to sudden changes of opinion. It took years for him to decide to give a singing career a shot, no matter how many times I told him he was hiding his light under a bushel.”
Marisol chewed her bottom lip, wanting to believe Mia was right, but still torn.
“The truth is, you won’t know what either of you can handle until you give it shot,” Mia continued, rising from her chair and crossing back to the coffee pot for a refill. “Yes, there’s a chance things might end badly, but I know from experience that fear doesn’t keep you safe. All fear does is keep you lonely, and shout so loud you can’t hear your heart when it whispers.”
The heart when it whispers…
What was her heart whispering? Beneath the fear and the hurt? Beyond the worry and the never-ending litany of scary “what-ifs?” If she turned her attention to the stillness at the core of her, where only truth was allowed to enter, what would it say? She wasn’t in the habit of listening to that still, peaceful place, but she sensed it would tell her that there is no heart in the world too broken to learn how to love, not even hers.
Marisol’s lips curved. “I wish the heart would talk louder.”
“I wish fear would keep its big mouth shut,” Mia countered with a wink over her shoulder as she poured an obscene amount of cream into her coffee. “Can I get you a refill?”
“No, thank you.” Marisol pushed her chair back, suddenly filled with urgent purpose. “I should head back to the ranch. Face my fears while I still hear the whispers.”
Mia turned, hands clasped together in excitement, coffee forgotten on the counter. “Did your heart whisper? Really? For Bubba?”
Marisol shrugged, fighting the urge to smile.
“I knew it!” Mia crowed, doing a little jig back and forth across the tile that made Marisol laugh.
“That doesn’t mean his heart is whispering,” she said, not wanting to be swept up in Mia’s excitement just yet. “After the way I ran away from him last night, he probably thinks I’m a crazy person.”
“We’re all crazy around here,” Mia said, waving a breezy hand through the air. “Keeps the place interesting.” She crossed the room, pulling Marisol into a hug that was surprisingly nice, considering they still weren’t much more than strangers.
But maybe it didn’t matter how long you’ve known someone, but how much of themselves they’ve shared with you, and how much you’ve shared in return. It had been years since Marisol had had such an honest conversation, and she hoped it would give her the strength to be honest with Robert.
She wasn’t in the perfect place to start something with a man she cared for—far from it. But maybe, if he could be patient, and she could keep one ear tuned in to the hopeful whispers inside, she could get to that place sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER NINE
Bubba was quickly remembering why he had never aspired to be a rancher like the long line of Lawson men before him.
He woke Tuesday morning with every muscle in his body aching, only to get kicked in the ribs by the first calf Cole herded down the alley into the crush squeeze. Cole swore none of the calves were over five months, but the little sucker that got a hoof in Bubba was the biggest weaner he’d ever seen. He knew his mom was a big believer in late castration, to allow the male calves to pack on more weight before they were deprived of their testosterone source. But by mid-morning Bubba was wishing his brother John had the cojones to tell Laura Mae they were going to start castrating at three months, the way his brother had wanted to for years.
Three-month-old calves were smaller and more easily managed that the pre-teen monsters Bubba and Cole had been wrestling for two days. And putting off the process until the summer months the way they did every year meant every animal had to be treated with fly and worm spray before they were released into the holding pen, where they’d be kept until they had healed from the procedure. Not to mention that the bleeding was worse when the animals were older, and the pain—despite the fact that Cole had gotten up early to numb the first batch of calves with lidocaine before they got started.
The morning was painful all around, and by the time Cole headed down the hill to the house to pick up their lunch, Bubba felt like he’d been run over by a truck.
He limped to the shade of the small stand of trees near the ledge overlooking the valley and collapsed onto the hard dirt with a groan. He was filthy, sore, and so tired he had no idea how he was going to put in another four hours after lunch. He knew Cole was disappointed that he’d failed to locate the missing cattle the first time he’d ridden out, and they weren’t going to be able to finish the job in three days, but Bubba was secretly grateful for the break. If he had to get up tomorrow and do this for the third day in a row, he might not be able to pull it off.
And if he wimped out in the middle of a job, Cole would never let him hear the end of it.
Bubba had assumed long hours working as a lineman, mornings at the gym, and weekends spent rock climbing with Ugly Ross had kept him in ranch-ready shape, but he’d been wrong. He’d forgotten that ranching used an entirely different set of muscles, muscles that now ached so intensely not even the sight of Marisol pulling up on a four-wheeler could convince him to expend the energy it would take to stand up.
Instead, he waited until she’d cut the engine, and was looking around the pens before he called out. “I’m over here. Suffering in the shade.”
Marisol jumped, laughing nervously as she turned toward him. “You scared me. I thought you’d gone in for lunch.”
“Nope, Cole’s bringing lunch back here,” Bubba said, eyes tracking up and down as Marisol walked toward him.
She was wearing the same clothes as last night—battered jeans, a plain black tee shirt, and boots—with her hair pulled back in a thick ponytail and not a speck of makeup on her face. She looked like she belonged on a cattle ranch, and even prettier than she did in her fancy dresses and high heels. He wanted to tell her she’d never looked sexier than she did right now, but after the way they’d parted last night, he knew it was best to steer clear of potential triggers.
He should have known better than to let sweet talk turn to dirty talk in the first place, but after the way she’d kissed him, he’d lost control of his mouth. Something deep inside of him had insisted all the things he wanted to say were the things Marisol wanted to hear, but he’d obviously misjudged things again. It had been a mistake, one he hoped she would give him a chance to fix.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as soon as she stepped into the shade. “I shouldn’t have pushed you last night. If you’d wanted to stay, you would have stayed.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Marisol said, shifting her weight back into the heels of her boots. “I shouldn’t have run away. I just wasn’t ready to talk, and I was too scared to do anything else, so… Forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive.” Bubba smiled, his heart lifting. He’d rarely heard Marisol speak so openly, and he couldn’t remember seeing such a vulnerable look in her eyes.
But that anxious, determined expression on her face could mean she’d come here to ask him to let her out of their contract. He would be best served by letting her finish what she’d come here to say before he got his hopes up too high.
“I like you a lot, Robert,” Marisol said, holding his gaze. “And we’re both obviously struggling to keep this a purely professional relationship.” She took a deep, bracing breath. “But before we go any further, you should know that I’m not an easy person to be involved with.”
Bubba lifted a wry brow. “You don’t say.”
The side of Marisol’s lips quirked. “I’m serious. If you think the past few days have been confusing, wait until you get a load of the rest of the baggage.”
Bubba’s grin faded. “I’m not afraid of baggage. I just wish I could have some quality time with the guy who made you so scared. I bet he’d look a lot better with a black eye and a few fewer teeth.”
