Boots and Buckles (17 page)

“Fine. Be that way.” Bunny left the salon, letting the door slam behind her.

Mona’s chest squeezed. Had she offended Bunny and strained her relationship by refusing the money? A hundred dollars. She might make that in tips that night and pay Bunny back in less than twenty-four hours. Was she piling one mistake on top of another?

Mr. Spillman continued counting.

Mona didn’t feel a bit sorry for him having to go through the nine hundred dollars of ones, fives, tens and quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. She’d worked hard for every bill and coin.

Five minutes into the count, Charli entered the shop, Kendall in tow. “We just stopped by to let you know that Audrey counted the tips wrong last night. She shorted you forty dollars.” Charli handed her a wad of wrinkled cash.

Mona eyed the money without taking it. “Bunny said something to you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kendall tossed the cash onto the pile Mr. Spillman was still counting. “Audrey asked us to bring it by this morning. She’d have delivered it herself, but she’s on a liquor run to Dallas with Jackson. Seems the cowboys are drinking more this year than last. Should be a good year for the Ugly Stick.”

The bell over the door rang again and Libby burst in. “I found this twenty under a beer bottle last night at one of your tables after you left.”

Mona laughed. “And you just happened to stop by to leave it with me?”

“I was on my way to…” Libby glanced left then right, her gaze shooting to the door, “…the drugstore for condoms. You know the guys—always in the mood.” She winked and skipped out the door, the color high in her cheeks.

Bunny entered, waving a twenty. “Remember the time you loaned me twenty dollars to buy groceries when I was flat broke and going through my divorce?”

Mona shook her head. “You paid me back.”

“No, I didn’t.” She smiled brightly and tossed the bill on the stack of money. “But I have now.”

“I’m not taking your money,” Mona said.

Charli, Kendall and Bunny each planted their hands on their hips and tipped back their chins.

Bunny spoke for all three. “It’s not
our
money. It’s
your
money and… Yes. You. Are.”

Mr. Spillman looked up from his pocket calculator and announced. “With the money you have in your savings account at the bank, plus what you have here, you’re still eighteen dollars and twenty-five cents short.” He glanced at the women in the room, sighed and dug his wallet out of his pocket and added a twenty to the cash. “My wife would kill me if this shop closed because I was too stingy to pitch in.” He stuck out his hand. “Congratulations, the bank will approve the loan for you.”

Mona took his hand and pulled him into a hug, her heart turning somersaults.

Rattled by the embrace, Mr. Spillman gathered up the cash and, promising to deposit it to her account and cut a check to the real estate agent, he left the shop.

Mona squealed and hauled the women into her arms, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m going to own my own building! All because of you.”

Bunny shook her head. “You did it yourself.”

“We’re so happy for you,” Charli said.

“And we get to keep the best beautician this town has ever had.” Kendall laughed and danced around.

Amid smiles and well-wishes, Kendall and Charli left soon after.

Bunny grasped her hand one final time. “I’d stay and chat, but we both have work to do.”

Mrs. Biedel entered the shop and Mona got started on her morning customers, finishing up all her appointments at ten minutes before eleven. Her heart was lighter and her thoughts turned to Grant and Sam more times than she cared to admit. With her entire afternoon free, she decided to close the shop and go somewhere to think about the cowboys and what she should do.

As she straightened her booth, the bell over the door rang and Sam stepped into the dim interior from the bright Texas sunlight.

Mona’s pulse quickened, her heart leaping into her throat. She wasn’t ready to face Sam or Grant. She hadn’t had enough time to figure out what she wanted.

“Change into jeans,” he said, without preamble. “We’re going to the rodeo.”

“Is that an invitation or a demand?”

“Whichever one works.” He nodded toward the back. “Go on.”

“I might have customers coming. It’s not like I don’t work during the day.”

“Do you have customers this afternoon?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t. I had a run on rescheduling appointments.” Her gaze narrowed. “Did you have anything to do with that?” She shook her head. “No. Of course not. How could you?”

He advanced toward her. “Are you going to change or am I gonna have to do it for you?”

Her body trembled at his threat. “Promises, promises.”

Sam took another step.

Mona turned and ran, Sam following her up the steps to her apartment.

The last time she and Sam had been alone in her apartment for any length of time, they’d slept together. After Sam had made love with her and Grant, Mona wondered if he was still interested. She stripped the clothes she’d been wearing and moved about the apartment in her bra and underwear.

Sam stood at the door, his hat shading his eyes in the dim lighting of the room.

She gathered her jeans and a white blouse with a V-neckline she knew would display an ample amount of her cleavage. With the outfit in hand, she gave Sam one last chance, planting herself in front of him. “What? An almost naked woman stands in front of you and it doesn’t even raise your blood pressure?”

“Oh, it’s raised all right.”

“Then why aren’t you making a move?” She pressed her breasts against his chest. “Did our threesome change your mind about me?”

He grabbed her arms and set her away from him. “You’re doing crazy things to me, and I want you enough to tear through your panties and fuck you until you can’t walk anymore.” He sighed. “But, Mona, I’m not the man for you.”

Her pulse pounding through her veins at his coarse, sexy words, she blinked up at him. “You’re not?”

“No. Relationships are hard enough when both people are totally committed to each other. I like you a lot, but I’m not sure I’m ready to commit.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “In time, I know I’d grow to love you, but I just don’t have that time and I won’t ask you to wait for me.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. At least you had the decency to tell me before it went any further.” With the jeans and shirt still in her hand, she looked up at him. “No need to take me to the rodeo.”

“Oh yes, there is. Get your clothes on, I’ll be waiting in my truck.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You really are special and you deserve a man who loves you enough to sacrifice everything to win your heart.”

“And that’s not you.” She leaned into him, inhaling the scent of leather, denim and aftershave. A sense of loss washed over her along with a flood of relief. She really hadn’t had enough time with Sam to fall in love with him and thankfully, she no longer had to choose between him and Grant. “Thank you, Sam. I hope we can stay friends.”

“You bet.” He slapped her ass. “Now get dressed. I want to find good seats.” He left her apartment, his boots clunking down the steps.

Mona stood for a moment, the relief of a moment ago giving way to a tightening in her gut and constriction of her throat. Though she no longer had to decide between Sam and Grant or both, she still had to resolve within herself whether she trusted Grant enough to let him back into her heart.

When the thought hit her, she realized he’d never left her heart in the first place. All those years she hadn’t dated, hadn’t been interested in other men were because of Grant.

Mona threw her clothes on and jammed her feet into her cowboy boots. Grabbing her cowboy hat, she ran down the stairs and hopped up into Sam’s truck. “Are we going to watch Grant ride?”

He nodded. “Uh huh.” Shoving the shift into reverse, he backed out of the alley onto Main Street and turned the truck toward the rodeo arena.

Sitting forward, Mona couldn’t wait to get there and see Grant. She’d come to a decision. Seeing him might help her solidify it.

Sam glanced over at her. “Did you know why Grant married Desiree?”

“He told me she was pregnant.” She sat back, not wanting to think about Grant’s ex-wife and that he’d gotten her pregnant.

“Did he tell you whose baby she was pregnant with?”

Her head whipped around. “I assumed it was Grant’s.”

Sam’s lips thinned. “It was Dalton’s.”

“Then why did Grant marry her?”

“He didn’t want her baby to suffer because of his and Dalton’s actions. When Dalton refused to marry the girl, Grant stepped in to give the baby a father.”

“What happened?” She’d heard through the rodeo grapevine that his wife had miscarried. “I can’t imagine Grant divorcing her because she miscarried?”

“No, he’s the type who’ll stand by a woman even when there’s no reason to stand by her anymore because he made a promise. He caught her in his bed with Dalton.”

The man who’d refused to marry the woman pregnant with his child, took her to bed after she’d married Grant. Mona’s stomach roiled. “The bastard.”

“That’s what ended his marriage and his partnership. He crawled into a bottle of whiskey and would have died there if I hadn’t pulled him out of a ditch in North Dakota.”

Mona leaned back against her seat, all her misconceptions about Grant swirling around her. He ditched her to do right by Dalton’s pregnant mistress.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you should know. And Grant wouldn’t have shared unless you asked the right questions. He’s not so proud of his alcoholic years.”

Mona sat in silence the rest of the way to the arena.

The parking lot was full so Sam found a place to park in the grass and they walked to the arena.

Once inside, Sam found seats halfway up the stands overlooking the line of gates and chutes where a cowboy prepared to ride a bronc. He balanced on the railings of the bucking chute and eased down onto the sorrel horse, shifting and slamming against the rails. Then he gripped the rope and leather handle tied around a horse’s belly, adjusting it to tighten his hold.

On the loudspeaker, the announcer called out the cowboy’s name and the horse he was riding. While the crowd cheered, the cowboy laid back on the horse’s hindquarters, gripping the strap between his legs, his heels at the animal’s shoulders. When he gave a nod, the gate swung open.

The horse leaped from the chute, kicking out his hind legs, coming down hard on his front hooves, jolting the rider. His hat flew off, he lost his balance and was thrown over the animal’s head.

The crowd rose to their feet with a synchronized gasp.

The man rolled to his feet and stood, and the audience roared their approval.

Mona’s heart pounded and she gripped Sam’s arm. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Sam nodded. “Sometimes more than others.” He pulled a red bandana out of his pocket and waved it.

“Why are you doing that?”

“I made a promise. Now, listen.”

The announcer’s voice interrupted with, “Direct your attention to gate number six. Grant Raleigh, a native Texan, will be riding the toughest buckskin this side of the Brazos, Cowboy Killer.”

Mona’s fingers dug into Sam’s arm. “He’s going to ride a killer horse?” She half-stood. “I can’t watch.”

Sam pressed her back into her seat. “Sit and hush.”

The voice on the loudspeaker went on. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are all in for a treat. Not only has Grant been a five-time All-Around Champion, he’s been a four-time bareback champ, and an inductee to the ProRodeo Hall of Fame.”

“He did all that?” Mona whispered.

Sam smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mona’s pulse raced as Grant balanced on the railing, his gaze panning the crowd. When he saw Sam waving the red bandana, he nodded and settled onto the back of the buckskin.

The announcer continued, “I’m sorry to say this will be Grant Raleigh’s last rodeo. He just announced today that he’s retiring after this event to settle down and raise horses and cattle and maybe a family he hopes will be seen in future events.”

The crowd booed, the boo turning into a chant, “We want Grant! We want Grant!”

Grant gripped the strap between his legs and pulled it tight. Then he laid back on the horse, his heels resting on the shoulders. At his nod, the gate swung open and the horse exploded out of the chute.

Mona stood, her heart in her throat as the beast’s front hooves slammed into the ground, then he twisted and turned, his back hooves kicking out, all four feet off the ground at once. Again and again, the horse bucked, kicked, hit the ground and started all over again.

Grant held on, his hat screwed down tight on his head, his left arm waving out to the side, his heels spurring the horse’s front shoulders. A loud buzzer sounded over the roar of the crowd, and Grant sat up, both hands working to free himself from the strap. Two riders moved up beside the crazed horse, waiting for Grant to grab hold of one cowboy and slide to the ground.