Just Her Luck (43 page)

"Of, course, short and sweet. Of course."

"That's my pet name," he confided in a hushed whisper, hand cupping the scarred side of his face like he was divulging a secret.

"And what do you call her?" Sawyer asked curiously, charmed by the little guy.

"Mine," he said simply, little chest puffed out, making everyone burst out laughing.

****

I came back from the dance floor, letting my tiny dancer escort me to the table.

"Did ya see us?! Huh? Huh? We were tearin' up the floor!" he crowed, pulling me towards where Ten was sitting a booth over.

Apparently this is the place to go for good barbecue, loud music and dancing. Everyone finds it perfectly normal to run into people they know here.

Guess it’s a popular hot spot in this little place.

Ruthie used to live in a town very similar to this one, so I know the sentiment really well.

It's kind of funny how I never would have ventured out this way if she hadn't asked me to.

Never would have met the guys either.

"Come sit with me, Genevieve!" Calvin tried to push me into his booth.

"Oh, Cal, sweetie, I was sitting with..."

"They don't mind, do ya fellas?" he cajoled, giving the guys big beseeching eyes.

He didn't even wait for an answer, just gave my rump a good shove that had me plopping down towards his booth, careening perilously close to good ol’ Uncle Ten.

"Umph, sorry," I mumbled, pushing out of Ten’s arm pit.

"Calvin!" Tara chastised, shaking her head at her son.

"What?" Calvin asked with false innocence, hopping in next to me to box me in.

"We've been had boys," Sawyer laughed, turning around to grin at Calvin over his side of the booth.

"I hope you aint thinkin' of settin' up Miss Ferguson with your Unc," Leonard chuckled, gesturing towards the Harrison booth, "I think them good ol’ boys might take issue, Cal."

"Why?" Calvin blinked, glancing around, "She's with me. Can't Uncle Ten take up with my ex if things don't work out?"

I burst out laughing, ignoring Thatcher's affronted huffing and Ephraim openly gaping.

Bowen looked undecided as he frowned and contemplated how to handle the situation, but his lips kept quirking up.

Sawyer laughed and ruffled Cal's hair.

"Sorry, partner, but Miss Ferguson is done and spoken for."

"Where are you getting this stuff from?" I giggled, stifling a round of loud snorts.

"Mama records those soap oprahs on the television," he shrugged, "Sometimes my homework's boring, so I peek at them when I'm at the kitchen table and she's watching them folding laundry. I learn things..."

He glanced from me to Ten, "I thought they'd be really helpful."

"Do you mean soap operas, bud?" Reeve asked the little guy, winking at Cal.

"Sure, those things," he said offhandedly, waving his hand airily, distracted as he grew thoughtful. "When we moved here a few months ago to live with Uncle Ten, I thought for sure I could find him a good woman."

Sawyer chuckled.

"And you think Miss Ferguson is a good woman?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh, she's the best!" He smiled, nodding vigorously, "She's nice like mama," he gestured at his mother, who was still blushing over the whole soap opera thing. "She's lots fun and she doesn't care that I'm ugly as sin and..."

"Ugly as sin? Why would you say that?" I whispered, shocked, Tara's face looking just as devastated.

"Well...” he looked hesitant all of the sudden, but went ahead, “Sally Olson says I'm a freak and Jenna Temmens said I'm ugly as sin..."

He didn't seem upset by the idea, more or less resigned to it.

"Well, Sally Olly whatever and Jenna Temmens are stupid," reaching over, I cupped his little chin in my hand, "You are just as handsome to me, bud, as any other cowboy out there. You're a sweet, funny little man with the coolest duds I've ever seen, and I bet you can out chicken dance anyone in the next three counties. You, my friend, are nothing short of awesome."

"You really thinks so?" he asked skeptically, brow wrinkling on the unscarred side of his face.

"I do."

He gave me a huge smile and hugged me.

I hugged him back.

He sighed heavily and pulled back, glancing over at Sawyer.

"Are you sure she's really spoken for?"

"Yup," Bowen and Ephraim chorused loudly, before Sawyer could say anything, grinning at my tenacious little friend.

"Sorry, Cal," Ten ruffled his hair, grinning, "I don't think I'm all that willing to try and steal her from any of them either. I might not make it out alive."

"I understand." Cal frowned, heaving another huge sigh, looking up at all of us sadly.

I snorted and nudged him.

"Have you met my Auntie Ruthie, Cal? She invented that expression."

"Oh, well I never!" Ruthie huffed, making little blustering noises from over on her side.

Shrugging and giggling, he gave up the act and started swinging his legs, kicking the booth seat every other swing, pulling his milk towards him to take a huge gulp, head bobbing a little to the music they had playing.

He looked over at me, then the guys, then his mom and Leonard.

A little scowl furrowed his brow and a little milk mustache dabbed his upper lip.

"Can't blame a guy for tryin’, can ya?" he grumbled.

Everybody laughed at that too.

Pleasure’s All Mine

"You gonna dance with me, girly?" Bowen rumbled, holding his hand out to me.

"Wait!" Calvin called, hurrying over to the side of the booth, rushing back with the stool I'd had him stand on so he could dance with me earlier. "Here ya go, Genevieve! Now you can be as tall as he is!"

I grinned, looking up at Bowen.

Bowen smiled and shook his head.

"Naw, sport. I don't mind if she's a midget."

"Oh!" I huffed, smacking him in the stomach, "I am not short!"

He just chuckled and raised a brow at me, thanking Cal for his thoughtfulness.

"Okay, so I'm kinda short-
whatever,"
I muttered, letting him guide me to the middle of the dance floor, leading me through a two-step.

"You're light on your feet, sweetheart," he observed, pleased.

I chuckled when he grinned and winked.

"Considering you're built like a lumberjack, sexy, you aren't so bad yourself," I sassed.

"I'm just surprised, is all. I meant nothin’ by it."

"Why?" I snorted, "I'm not supposed to be able to know how to dance? Well, for your information, sir, I could two step, waltz or even swing dance around your buns, any day."

"Oh, and where did you learn to do that, girly?"

"The same way I learned how to go deep sea fishing and how to gut a fish," I said very matter of fact, loving the look on his face.

"What?" he laughed, giving me a quick spin.

"I dated an ex dance instructor turned fisherman." I grinned cheekily.

He almost missed a step, fumbling for a second.

"A dance instructor turned fisherman...?” he blinked at me, “You're serious?"

I gave him a saucy salute. "Aye, aye, cap’n!"

Bowen was still looking at me funny, waiting for me to tell him I was just fucking with him as we continued our dance.

I just smiled to myself.

I wasn’t.

The dance finally ended and I started tugging him off the dance floor with my good hand, ready to sit the next one out.

"Come on, baby." Ephraim nabbed me around the waist, smiling at Bowen's protests. "I wanna dance with ya."

"Pfft! I'm still irritated with... Hey! Ephraim! Ugh! You can't just... But... Wait!"

"Don't you go buttin' me, Genny, I want a turn too," he warned seriously, ruining it by winking at me, pulling me in close for a slow song.

"You know," I muttered, smooshed up against his upper abdomen, peeking up at him, "Maybe I
should
have borrowed Cal's stool after all."

"Huh?" he mumbled after a moment, confused, pulling back to look down at me.

"I said I'm too short to dance with you. We probably look ridiculous!"

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around me tight, lips hot on mine as he scorched me from the top of my perfectly pinned up hair, to the bitty bottom of my brand new cowgirl boots.

He lifted me up, my feet dangling uselessly, somewhere in the vicinity of his knees or shins-
can't be too sure-
shuffling slowly from side to side with me in his arms.

"This is even worse!" I protested, giggling, peeking down at how silly we looked.

"But you don't care about things like that, what other people think, do you, baby?"

"Not really," I admitted quietly, shrugging, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"And that's what I love about you." He didn’t hesitate to dive in for another hot kiss.

"I believe this next one is mine," Thatcher said haughtily, cutting in, ignoring my protests as he had to practically unweld me from Ephraim.

"We weren't done yet," Ephraim argued, staring at me longingly, tongue peeking out just the tiniest bit to lick his lower lip, eyes glazed over with renewed lust and anticipation.

He was probably also thinking about our mini sexcapade in his truck a little bit ago too, same as me.

My breath hitched and I gulped.

"Five more minutes," I pleaded, glancing at Ephraim's yumminess.

I never can resist him.

My brain is broken when it comes to my blue-eyed cowboy.

"Your dessert is finally here," Sawyer announced, swooping in to dance off with me, making me laugh while Thatcher gave him the stink eye.

"You're just sayin’ that, aren't you?" Thatcher accused.

"Sayin’ what?" Sawyer asked casually with a huge boyish grin, giving me a quick twirl, then pulling me in firmly against his massive chest, careful to make sure he didn't use my left hand.

"Sayin’ there's dessert."

"What are you more upset about?" I guffawed, "The dessert or me?"

"Dessert," he said honestly, roguish grin in place, "I can always catch up with you later. Corner you when you least expect it." He wiggled his brows meaningfully, green eyes alight with amusement and mischief.

"Oh, really?" I murmured, smirking.

I'd like to see him try...

"Sure,” he nodded agreeably, “I
am
half ninja, after all."

"Thatcher,
shut up
." Sawyer snorted, shaking his head as Thatcher took up a ridiculous karate pose.

"Make me...hwaaaaa..."

"Enough! No more fighting or I swear I'll ditch you both, right now."

"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison, Thatcher saluting me smartly.

I rolled my eyes heaven ward, sighing disgustedly.

"Hey, wait!" Thatch called as I recovered and Sawyer started to whirl us away. "What kind of dessert?"

"Oh," Sawyer said grinning, "I wasn't talking to
you
."

He turned his head and leaned down to give me a quick, hard kiss, pulling back to give me a meaningful look, ignoring my shocked expression as he whisked me away towards the middle of the dance floor, leaving a very pissed off Thatcher behind.

****

"Thanks." I smiled faintly, fanning myself with my hand-
good lord, it's hot
- stopping long enough to take a swig from the water bottle Sawyer had produced from his truck, my legs resting up along the bench seat as he rifled around and underneath me.

"Hold on," Sawyer rustled about, "I think I found them."

I flicked at his pony tail, laughing when he tried to bat my hand away.

We had actually danced for a while, Sawyer refusing to give me up as his dance partner to someone else, sashaying me around the dance floor.

He didn't growl at them or threaten bodily injury to get his way, opting for a more indirect approach.

He ignored them and twirled me away, losing them as he danced his way back into the crowd.

He didn't actually argue with anyone about it, just used very clever evasive tactics, like how he tricked Thatch with the dessert talk.

I smiled even more.

It was actually really sweet.

The not fighting, for me- not him wanting to be my dessert.

Although...

I chuckled as I watched him flex and reach, muscles bunching and tensing, moving with an errant, apparent grace that he came by naturally.