Red's Hot Cowboy (14 page)

Wil pushed the numbers for the motel three times and hung up before the phone rang. He didn’t need a woman in his life who was a female player. Since Rye had found Austin, he and Raylen both had been bitten by the “settle down” bug. And then the lights went out in Henrietta… and the rest was history. The motel number was engraved in his brain after thinking about calling her all evening.

Finally he gave in to the itch and let the phone ring. She picked up on the second ring.

“Front desk. This is Pearl.” Pearl groaned. She had ten rooms filled and the last one was a woman who looked like she’d faint at her own shadow. Pearl hoped the woman didn’t find a scorpion behind the potty in the bathroom. As exhausted as she looked, she’d faint, bust open her head on the sink, and sue Pearl for the whole motel. When the phone rang, she just knew the woman had found a bug.

“Well, I guess I done got the wrong number. I was calling for this pretty red-haired woman who works there called Red,” Wil said.

“I should hang up.” She ignored the fact that he called her by that abominable nickname. “What can I do for you, Wil Marshall? Is your electricity out again?”

“No, but I’m lonesome. Come out here and keep me company.”

“Too bad, darlin’. I’ve already turned out the lights and I’m in bed,” she said.

“That’s a provocative idea,” Wil said.

“Want to know what I’m wearing?” she teased.

“A black lacy thing…”

“In your dreams. I’ve got on flannel pajama bottoms and a thermal knit shirt. Both of them are gray and match my socks,” she said.

“Can I come over there and see for myself? I think you are lying to me and you’ve really got on one of those black lacy things with fishnet hose and a cute little bow at the front right under your—”

“Whoa, cowboy! I don’t have phone sex on the first phone call,” she said.

“Can’t blame a cowboy for trying.” He chuckled. “Okay then, what’s the rules? Second phone call?”

“Try the twenty-fifth,” she said.

“Can I have your cell phone number?”

“Not until the third phone call,” she said.

“Okay, hang up and I’ll call you back twice,” he drawled.

She giggled. “Good night, Wil. Sweet dreams.”

“Ah, come on. Talk to me, Red. I’m too wound up to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Did I tell you that Austin and Rye are having a New Year’s Eve party Sunday and we’re supposed to go?”

“You told me that already.”

“What time can I pick you up?”

“I’m going in my car. That way I can leave when I want,” she answered.

He chuckled. “Okay, then are you wearing something black, tight, and lacy to the party?”

“First phone call, Wil. I’m not talking about clothes, underpants, or teddies.”

“Well, damn. I might as well read my book until I fall asleep. I’m going to Wichita Falls tomorrow for feed. Want to go with me? We could get some lunch and I’ll have you back in plenty of time for the guests.”

“Got to clean rooms,” she said.

“You ain’t no fun at all tonight, Red. I think I’ll just go on to sleep.”

She laughed. Every hormone in her body whined. It would be so easy to tell him to come right on over, especially after those fiery kisses.

“You’ve got a delicious laugh,” he said.

“If it’s so delicious, what does it taste like?” she asked.

“Peach cobbler with homemade ice cream. Good night, Red. I’ll holler at you tomorrow after I get home from Wichita Falls.” He hung up.

So much for steering clear of the woman. He was drawn to her like metal to magnet. There was just something about the electricity between them that kept bringing him back for another dose.

***

Pearl held the phone for a full minute before she put it back on the base, and it was a very long time before she finally went to sleep.

Tuesday morning she awoke half an hour late and barely made it to the lobby before the first of the guests were ready to check out. She and Lucy cleaned rooms until noon, stopped long enough to run into town to the Dairy Queen for a hamburger, and then finished up the rest of the rooms by three o’clock. Lucy went to her room to read and Pearl cleaned her apartment.

Six rooms were full and another customer coming through the door with two teenage kids in tow when the phone rang that evening. She laid a card on the counter and picked up the phone on the third ring.

“Longhorn Inn. Front desk. Please hold.” She laid the phone to the side and turned back to the guest.

“I either need two rooms or one with two beds,” the woman said.

“Each room has two beds, but I have vacancies if you want two rooms,” Pearl said.

“One room then,” she said and filled out the card.

“Thank you for holding. What can I do for you?” she said as she finished the transaction and the woman was on her way outside with the key to room eleven.

“Well, I’d like one of those empty rooms I heard you talking about and you waiting for me in it wearing that black thing you had on last night,” Wil said.

“Wil Marshall! I told you I was wearing gray flannel and socks!”

“Not in my mind, but we can’t talk about that, can we? This is only our second phone call. It has to be the third? Isn’t that right?”

She smiled.

“Are you going to answer or at least let me hear a peach pie giggle?” he asked.

“You are—”

“Tired,” he finished for her. “It finally caught up to me this afternoon. I almost fell asleep on the way home from Wichita Falls. If I had and it killed me it would’ve been your fault. If you’d have come out to the ranch and kept me company I wouldn’t have tossed and turned all night.”

She couldn’t have wiped the grin from her face if it had meant giving up chocolate donuts. “It would not have been my fault. You shouldn’t drive when you are that tired. You should be sleeping, not talking to me.”

“It’s only eight thirty. If I go to sleep now I’ll wake up at midnight and won’t be able to sleep anymore all night. Let Lucy run the motel and come watch a movie with me. I promise I won’t even kiss you.”

Pearl laughed so hard that she got the hiccups.

“What’s so funny, Red?”

“I’m not a walk-behind-you-three-steps kind of woman, Wil. What if I wanted to kiss you?”

“Well, hell, honey, we could work out some kind of arrangement. That mean you are coming out here?”

“It does not. I don’t kiss on the second date.”

“I do believe I remember that you’ve kissed me already. Do those kisses count as one phone call and I get your cell phone tonight?”

“No, you kissed me. When I kiss you, darlin’, you will already have my cell number. This is only number two.”

It was fun to flirt again after a long, dry spell. She’d always loved dating, loved flirting and the chase, whether it was her doing the running after or the running from, she loved the game. But here lately she’d felt as if she was running toward that special man who loved her so much that when she looked into his eyes she only saw a reflection of herself hiding there.

“Then tomorrow night I get lucky?” Wil asked.

She laughed again. “Lucky as in what?”

“Is your mind in the gutter? I was talking about getting your cell phone number so I could call anytime I want. What were you thinking about?”

“Giving you my cell phone number. When do I get yours?”

His voice deepened and he whispered, “Miz Red! I’m surprised at you being so forward. I don’t give my cell number to anyone on the third date. I’m an old-fashioned guy. I wait until I see you in that little black thing before you get my number.”

The laughter stopped and her insides went all soft and mushy at his sexy voice. “Wil, this is goose and gander.”

“What?”

“I don’t put out until you do.”

“And are we still talkin’ about phone numbers?”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun with anyone. Wil had wit, charm, and downright sex appeal. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I don’t give out my number until you are willing to share yours.”

He sighed. “Well, shit! I figured that’s what you meant. Okay, darlin’, then tomorrow night we’ll both put out at the same time. I hope it’s as good for you as it’s going to be for me.”

“I’ve got a customer headed for the door. Good night, Wil,” Pearl said.

“Dream about me,” he said and the phone went dead.

***

Pearl and Lucy were just finishing up the last room when the florist’s van pulled up in front of the lobby.

“Hello!” Pearl yelled, hoping that the flowers in the lady’s hand weren’t for Lucy. If her sorry husband had found her and sent flowers to butter her up so she’d come back to Kentucky to wash his clothes, cook his supper, and take whippings, Pearl intended to shoot the sorry bastard herself.

“I’m lookin’ for Miz Richland,” the woman said.

Lucy pointed. “That’d be her. And thank God! Cleet never did get me no flowers but that give me a scare. If he ever finds me he’ll kill me, Pearl. If he sent me them flowers I was goin’ to run again. I don’t never want to see him again.”

Pearl patted her arm. “You won’t have to run. I’ll shoot him. I don’t ever want to lose you, Lucy.”

The woman handed Pearl the crystal vase with three roses in it. She carried it to the lobby and set it on the counter. She didn’t want them to be from Marlin. Like Lucy, she didn’t ever want to hear from her ex again.

“You goin’ to open the card?” Lucy asked.

“I’m afraid to. If they are from Marlin, my old boyfriend, then there’ll have to be a phone call telling him that I’m not interested in him anymore and I—”

Lucy reached up and grabbed the card, flipped it open, and frowned. “They ain’t from anyone. It’s a phone number and it’s wrote down in red ink.” She handed it to Pearl who recognized the area code and smiled.

Lucy giggled. “Wil Marshall. That’s who they’re from. He called you Red. I told you that cowboy has the hots for you. I betcha he kisses you on New Year’s Eve.”

“I might not even go to that party.”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, you are goin’. I know how to run this place and you need to go play. You work too hard.”

Pearl smelled the roses. Were there three because she said they had to have three phone calls before she would give him her cell phone number?

“Why are you pushin’ me so hard?” she asked Lucy.

“This might be your chance at happiness. Don’t be slammin’ the door before you see what’s behind it. And,” Lucy took a deep breath and her eyes widened, “if you don’t I’m goin’ to quit workin’ for you.”

“What made you a therapist?”

“I’m just tellin’ it like it is.”

“I thought you were sworn off all men,” Pearl argued.

“I am but that don’t mean you are. There’s some good men out there and you deserve a happy life with one of them. I don’t do so good when it comes to pickin’ out menfolks. Now ’nuff said. I’m goin’ to go finish my book and start another one. Can I steal Delilah to keep me company this afternoon?” She picked the big yellow cat up from one of the recliners.

“Sure.” Pearl smiled at Lucy’s newly found independent streak. As soon as she and Delilah were outside, Pearl smelled the roses and fished her cell phone out of her pocket. She programmed the new number into the phone and left a text message with her cell number.

At eleven o’clock that night her cell phone rang. She picked it up, checked caller ID, and answered, “Hello, 8725. Thank you for the roses. They are lovely.”

“Miz 3407, you sure do have a sexy phone voice. You ever think of applying for a job at one of those 900 numbers?”

“How do you think I made the money to get my degree?” She flipped the lights to old doofus cowboy off and the NO VACANCY light on, locked the door, and headed back to her apartment.

“I finally got you!” she said when he didn’t answer.

“I was thinkin’ maybe that’s where I’d heard your voice before,” he said quickly.

“Wil Marshall!”

“Who? I’m 8725. Who is this Wil feller? Someone I need to be worried about? Did he send you roses today?”

“Hell, no! He’s only interested in my body. 8725 sent me three lovely red roses,” Pearl teased as she filled a glass with ice and poured sweet tea over it.

“Do I hear you getting ice out of the freezer? Do I make you that hot?” Wil asked.

Oh, honey, you have no idea just how hot you do make me but I’m not admitting it to you.

“I don’t even know who you are. You are just a phone number that came with some roses. You might be eighty years old, bald, and…”

“And what?”

“And bowlegged,” she said quickly. If she’d said what she’d really been thinking she would have blushed so badly that the sky would have lit up like daylight.

“That’s not what you were thinkin’, but just for your information, Red, when I’m eighty years old, bald, and bowlegged I will still be damn good in bed. It’s in the Marshall genes. Remember how I told you my grandpa died when he was a hundred years old? Well, me and Rye asked him when he was eighty how old a man was before he couldn’t do it no more and Grandpa said we’d have to go find someone older than him to ask.”