herself as she crawled into bed. “Stability. And someone who doesn’t call wedding cake un-wedding cake and then cut it with a hunting knife!”
Getting up, she grabbed the box off the dresser and slipped the cake under her pillow. “I’ll just ignore Mr. Superstitious’s dire warning,” she said. “It’s not like I’d dream of future husbands, anyway.”
More like she’d have nightmares. Of Tex.
“WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” Mason demanded as Tex limped into the ranch’s main house. It was just the two of them living there now, and that fact alone was starting to string Tex’s nerves tight. Mason was not a pleasant roommate.
“I just turned my ankle a bit,” Tex said. “It’s nothing.”
Bandera and Navarro came in behind him, eyeing Tex as he fell into the recliner and struggled to get his boot off.
“Need help?” Bandera asked.
“Not really,” Tex said, gritting out the words. His ankle hurt more than he thought it would.
“Hang on,” Navarro said. Gently, he took hold of the boot and did his best to pull it off without hurting Tex.
“Arrgh!” Tex moaned in spite of himself.
“Where the hell have you been?” Bandera asked. “Ranger called here a while ago and said to keep an eye out for you. Said you were three sheets to the wind last night. And then you disappeared.”
“Yeah.” Tex settled into the recliner, trying not to grimace at his swollen ankle. “Hannah wanted me to check on Cissy under the guise of taking her some wedding cake. So I took a shower, sobered up and hit the road.”
“Ooh,” his three brothers said.
“What?” Tex said, sitting up. “What does ‘ooh’ mean?”
“Cissy did that to you,” Bandera said.
“Not exactly.” But Tex didn’t feel like sharing more of the story than that.
The phone rang, and Mason swept it up. “Hello?” He listened for a few moments, then said, “Yes. The superhero made it home fine. Thanks for calling.” Hanging up the phone, Mason put on a fake nonchalant expression. “That was Miss Cissy Kisserton,” he said, torturing Tex just a little. “She says you took a flying leap out of her bedroom window.”
“Ooh,” his other two brothers said.
Tex closed his eyes.
“Fear of intimacy,” Navarro pronounced.
“And Ranger’s Curse of the Broken Body Parts has gotten to Tex,” Bandera stated. “Just look at him all laid up like that.”
“What bullcorn,” Mason said. “What a pile of hockey pucks.”
“It’s all over but the crying,” Bandera said.
“Yeah, Tex crying,” Navarro agreed. “We’re going to have to listen to the wedding bell blues until the blood goes on the marriage certificate.”
“All right. Enough,” Tex said crossly. “I’m afraid you have all overstated the importance of a slightly tweaked ankle.”
“Looks purple to me,” Mason observed, “for a slight tweak. Think I’ll ring the doc and ask him what to do for a broken ankle.”
“Broken!” Tex leaned up to stare at his appendage. “It’s not broken.”
“You jumped out a woman’s second-story window,” Bandera said in disbelief, shaking his head. “The shame of it!”
Navarro blinked. “I’ve never heard of a Jefferson male breaking his own ankle to escape a woman.”
Tex ground his teeth. “If any of you knew half as much as you think you do—”
“All we know is what we see,” Navarro said. “And it’s humiliating!”
“Actions speak louder than words,” Bandera agreed. “Dude, your roses never move past the bud stage. You are way too out of touch with yourself and the universe to be able to release the—”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Tex waved a hand majestically in the air. “You obviously have not heard the good news.”
His brothers stood by silently.
“We’re going to participate in a bachelor raffle for Miss Honeycutt. Delilah. At the Mayfest.”
Navarro and Bandera stared at him, then started to howl with laughter. “No, we’re not,” they said, leaving the room snickering.
Mason shook his head and left, as well.
“Chickens,” Tex said, staring at his swelling ankle. Mason returned to put a bag of ice on it and then left the house.
Tex rolled his eyes. “Fear of intimacy,” he grumbled. “Budus Interruptus. Curse of the Broken Body Parts. What a bunch of superstitious weirdos!”
They were really starting to bother him.
And Cissy bothered him even more. “They’re wrong,” he told his ankle. “And she’s wrong. I know exactly what I’m doing. Eventually, they’ll all have to admit that I’m not the one with hang-ups.”
He would unlock the Sacred Mysteries of the Rosebuds—and prove he wasn’t scared of intimacy all in one fell swoop.
The raffle would be his salvation. In two weeks, he’d spend time on a date with a woman. Perfect timing for roses to bloom in glorious, take-that color.
TWO WEEKS LATER, Tex’s “tweaked” ankle was healed, and he was on a makeshift stage at the rodeo arena. There were six men to follow him, but he didn’t know them, and at this moment, he didn’t care to introduce himself. He felt silly. Mimi had gussied him up; his twin, Laredo, had sent him well wishes from North Carolina; Frisco Joe had sent him roses—butthead!—and Ranger had called long distance to ask him if he could stand the stress of being owned by a woman. His still-unmarried brothers had teased him unmercifully about becoming a stud and asked him if he was going to start dancing in clubs and letting women stuff money in his G-string.
But he’d endured it all in pursuit of his goal.
Cissy Kisserton seated herself in the stands, making his every hair stand at attention, it seemed. What was it about that woman that electrified him?
She waved at him, and he jerked his head at her in a “hello” motion. Then she lifted a bidding paddle—prettily painted fans just for this occasion—and waved it merrily at him.
He groaned. Surely she didn’t intend to carry out her threat of being a mole bidder. This was not going according to plan. He was supposed to feel liberated and free of his brothers’ teasing. And he was proving to Malfunction Junction and everyone else that he wasn’t an intimacy-phobe.
And there sat Cissy, looking like cool ice cream in a diamond-glazed dish.
What
