“This is...” Destiny sent Buck a blank look.
Holy cow. She’d forgotten his name—that had never happened to him before. Not only was his moniker memorable, but most ladies thought his face was, too. “Buck Owens Cash.”
“Buck Owens? Why Buck is one of my favorite country-and-western singers.” A blonde lady wearing a strapless rhinestone dress that pushed her wrinkled bosom up to her chin batted her eyelashes.
“Heel, Sonja.”
“Go soak your head in a bucket, Ralph,” Sonja said.
“Whoever thought to name their kid Buck Owens Cash must have been a dimwit.” A man closer in age to Buck moved to the front of the group. Dressed in a gray suit and red tie, he assessed Buck. “Is Cash your real surname or one you made up to go with your Vegas stage name?”
Stage name? “All three names are for real, and I doubt my deceased mother would appreciate you calling her a dimwit,” Buck said.
“Knock it off, Mark. Buck’s pickup broke down near the chapel and I gave him a lift into town,” Destiny explained.
“You look very...hot.” Sonja handed him a bottled water.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Buck guzzled the drink.
“Where’s Daryl?”
“What happened?”
“How come you’re late?”
Questions were fired at Destiny from all directions, and she raised her hands in surrender. “Daryl was a no-show.”
An elderly man with grizzled cheeks dressed in polyester slacks and a plaid dress shirt appeared at Destiny’s side. He tapped his finger against what appeared to be a toy sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt. “Want me to bring him in?”
Was this guy for real?
“Thank you for your concern, everyone, but I’d rather Daryl have changed his mind about marrying me now than after we tied the knot.”
The redhead didn’t act the least bit heartbroken, which Buck found hard to accept. Then again a woman who sported a lizard tattoo and biceps muscles was probably as tough on the inside as she appeared on the outside.
“Violet.” Destiny removed her veil and handed it to a lady with blue hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to break the curse.”
What curse?
“Never mind, dear,” Violet said. “I shouldn’t have loaned it out. I probably passed my bad luck on to you.”
“Good Lord, Violet.” A woman standing by the piano spoke. “That wedding veil has made a dozen trips down the aisle and not one of those marriages lasted more than a few years.”
“Eleven, and none of the divorces were my fault.” Violet winked at Buck. “Can’t help it if I’m attracted to bad boys.”
Buck felt his face heat up.
Destiny came to his rescue. “No need to let all this food and drink go to waste.”
“We never celebrated Destiny’s mayoral win,” the sheriff said. “We should turn this into a victory party.”
The biker chick was the mayor of Lizard Gulch?
“Three cheers for Destiny!”
Hoots and hollers echoed through the bar then folks crowded the buffet table, loading their Chinet plates with every kind of casserole known to mankind.
Someone pushed him toward the food line. “Go eat.”
He did as he was told, then stood in the corner and watched Destiny make the rounds, chatting with her constituents and listening to their complaints and concerns as if she really cared.
“Is this your first time in Lizard Gulch?” Mr. Suit-and-Tie held out his hand. “Mark Mitchell.”
After he shook Mitchell’s hand, Buck said, “Until a few minutes ago I wasn’t aware the town existed.”
“Lizard Gulch used to be a lively place in its day.”
“And when was that?” A century ago?
“Five decades of prosperity before the Interstate took all the traffic north of the town. Lizard Gulch was a popular overnight stop on the old Route 66.” He pointed to a lady a few feet away, whose shoulder-length black bob looked like a wig. “Melba’s parents ran the Flamingo Resort. Travelers stopped here on their way to California, because the motel had an outdoor pool and slide for kids.” Mitchell wiped his brow with a napkin. “Once they finished construction of the Interstate, people drove straight through to California.”
“I’m surprised the town wasn’t abandoned.” How did anyone make a living? Then again, the average age in the saloon had to be sixtysomething. Maybe they were all retired.
“The town sat vacant for years. When Melba’s husband died, she quit her job as a bank teller in Kingman, then took his insurance money and renovated the Flamingo. Turned the parking lot into a mobile home park and invited friends to visit. Her friends told their friends and before you knew it the place filled up with old farts.”
Buck eyed the bride. Why would a young woman want to live with all these gray heads? “How long has Destiny lived here?”
“About a year.”
“Stop hogging the newcomer.” The guy wearing the disco shirt slipped his arm through Buck’s and squeezed his biceps. “We haven’t had a cowboy as handsome as you come through town in...forever.”
“Enrick’s one of those homosexuals, but you probably already figured that out,” Mitchell said.
Buck choked on a swallow of water.
“It’s called being gay, Mark.” Enrick motioned to the big man with the ponytail. “Frank’s my partner. We met at a pastry competition in Phoenix and it was love at first sight.”
Buck barely heard Enrick drone on about his partner—Destiny had caught his attention. She’d taken the pins out of her hair and long fiery locks cascaded down the back of her white leather vest. She was nothing like the women he normally dated. Maybe that weekend rodeo in Flagstaff wasn’t so important after all.
“Where are you from?” Mitchell asked.
“Stagecoach. Small town southeast of Yuma.”
Enrick leaned in and sniffed Buck’s neck. “You smell good. What cologne are you wearing?”
Buck inched sideways, inserting an extra foot of space between himself and lover boy. “I can’t remember.”
“I’ve never cheated on Frank—” Enrick sighed dramatically “—but right now I really wish I was single.”
Frank made his way through the crowd toward Enrick and Buck. “Quit
