Waltz With Me, Cowboy

  Waltz With Me,

  Cowboy

  Sisters of the Yellow Rose

  Debra Holt

  Copyright © 2018 by Debra Holt

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First Edition: July 2018

  Debra Holt

  Waltz with me, Cowboy: a novel / by Debra Holt – 1st ed.

  Summary:

  A daughter returns to the family business to try and save it and finds that going home might bring her the greatest love of all.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: Stetson

  Cover design © The Killion Group

  Interior layout by Elizabeth Dunlap

  Graphic from vecteezy.com

  ISBN 978-1978383630

  Titles by Debra Holt

  Lawmen Series –

  Beware the Ranger

  The Sheriff’s Apache Moon

  Along Came a Ranger

  The Sheriff’s Christmas Angels

  Love beneath Blue Texas Skies

  His Country Bride

  Mercy’s Rescue

  The Cartwright Series –

  Annie’s Turn

  Claiming the Maverick’s Heart

  Trouble Rides a Horse

  The Neighborly Thing to Do

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Dancing is a lot like making love. And don’t give me that skeptical look of yours, young missy.” With an arch of a fine eyebrow and a shake of her head, the older woman warmed to the subject before Calla could stop her. “You and your partner have to be in perfect rhythm with each other. It’s a look, a touch of the hand at your back, a spin. It’s all about knowing each other’s moves and even each other’s thoughts without saying a word… just the touching of one body to the other, the joining of two hearts, two souls. The man leads, and the woman follows, but together, they move as one. Two bodies in perfect harmony. Can’t get much better than that.”

  Calla Rose smoothed a smile across her face, which wasn’t all that easy to do. “I’ll take your word for it, Miss Mollie. I’ll also leave the dance floor to you. It’s best I stick to what I know.”

  “And that is?”

  “The law … and once upon a time … this business. Or maybe it’s vice versa now.”

  Calla received another slow shake of her head as Miss Mollie watched her shuffling the stack of papers into three different piles on top of the stack of unopened boxes. “Now doesn’t that just sound boring as all get out? You need to spice things up in life. That’s what keeps you alive. Find some young, devil-may-care cowboy to dance with and that’ll keep you young and your blood flowing all your days. Just look at me… eighty years on my last birthday and still two-stepping with my fair share of cowboys on Saturday nights.”

  Calla paused, a grin reflecting the woman’s. She knew Miss Mollie meant well, but she really didn’t have time to debate the finer points of dancing versus keeping the almost ninety-year old dance hall open. “I’ll keep your advice in mind. Right now, I need to get back to work on my bar problem or those thirsty cowboys won’t stick around for those Saturday dances.” A glance at her slim wristwatch and a frown creased her brow. “Where’s that repairman? I called my beer distributor almost two hours ago.”

  “Well, there’s a guy waiting to see you out front.” The dishwasher tossed that information over his shoulder as he moved through the room, carrying a tub of glassware from the bar area toward the dish room. “Maybe that’s him.”

  “Thanks, Otis.” Saved by the bell. “You have a good afternoon, Miss Mollie. We’ll see you for the first weekly dance contest?”

  “You betcha. Have to defend my crown. I’ll be there with my fancy new duds and dancing boots shined and ready to go. See you later, Calla. Give my best to your sisters.” The woman threw up a wave as she stepped through the outer door and onto the patio outside. Calla gave another quick glance at her wristwatch, more out of years of habit than anything, as she pushed through the swinging door into the bar area. The clock was ticking, and her patience was growing thin as this man should have arrived over an hour ago in response to her call for an emergency repairman.

  The tall man stood on the other side of the bar, his back to her, elbows resting on the bar where he was leaning in a nonchalant stance as if he had all the time in the world. That increased her level of irritation. Calla rounded the bar, hands going to hips and her narrowed gaze landed on him.

  “Excuse me? What are you doing on this side of the bar? The problem is behind it. I called for help two hours ago.”

  The man didn’t move, but his head turned in her direction, and one hand raised slowly, a finger pushing the brim of his cream cowboy hat upward a bit. A dark green gaze landed on her, its cool assessment moving from the top of her blonde head downward to take in the charcoal silk blouse and the light gray tailored slacks she wore. The strong lines of the male’s mouth curved upward on one side, as if he found something about her amusing.

  Why had she added the strand of pearls at her throat that morning? The pearl studs in her ears were bad enough. Why care about that now? Maybe she didn’t resemble what a typical Texas dance hall owner would look like. She had no doubt about that having endured more than a few of those looks since her return to McKenna Springs. But she hadn’t planned her wardrobe to account for the recent changes in her life. And clothing was the last thing on her mind in a day full of nothing but problems. Until that moment… under that long, steady male gaze.

  “I beg your pardon?” His voice was deep, ‘whiskey smooth’ her dad would call it, and he was still not moving. Her frustration level was on a steady rise.

  “I’m not paying you to lounge at the bar but to be behind it, fixing the beer dispensers. We open the saloon area in less than two hours, so a little speed would be good right about now.”

  At last, the man straightened, elbows moving off the bar. Yep. He was tall. And he was dressed in the jeans, boots, and western chambray work shirt that labelled him a cowboy… nothing new about that in McKenna Springs. She might even consider him a cut above the usual with those vivid green eyes and their nest of dark lashes that might even give credence to the term ‘bedroom eyes’ if she was in a better frame of mind, but broad shoulders and tight jeans were the last things on Calla’s checklist of needs. She needed a repairman with real tools and she needed him a while ago.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Simply put… these lines won’t work. Why they won’t, is what you’re here to tell me.” Stepping around the bar again, she picked up a beer tap dispenser and depressed the button… nothing. A second time, and nothing again. The man followed her behind the bar and stood close enough that she caught a whiff of a very nice blend of cologne and male. It took her by complete surprise and she had to pause for a moment gathering her suddenly scattered thoughts back to the matter at hand. Maybe skipping lunch had been a bad idea after all.

  Calla took a step away from him and picked up the other dispenser, repeating the action without a thought. Big mistake. For whatever reason, or just because her day needed to be made truly unforgettable, the second line had decided to work just fine at that moment. A forceful spray of beer hit the cowboy in a full-frontal assault. He had been about to say something when hit so his words were lost in the mouthful of the suds.

  Calla dropped the offending line as if it was a hot poker. Once released, the b
utton shut itself off. Stunned into speechlessness, she could only watch as the soaked man blinked a couple of times, then slowly recovered, his hand removing the dripping hat from his head. Rivulets of beer dripped from his nose and chin and he cast a slow look down at the damage on the rest of his body. No words came forth for several long moments. Calla stood in silent shock, expecting a tirade.

  Jade eyes fixed on her. “I usually take my beer in a bottle.” Those words brought her back to reality with a thud. The whole episode might be comical… in another world. At the moment, neither of them were laughing.

  “I am so very sorry,” she began, looking for and then grabbing a handful of bar towels from beneath the counter, beginning to quickly dab at his shirt front. It did register that the broad chest felt rock solid under her misguided swipes. A strong hand captured hers and stilled it, her wide-eyed gaze flashed to his.

  “Don’t. Don’t help,” he clarified. Taking the towel out of her hand, he used it on his face. He no longer smelled of sexy cologne.

  “Good golly gosh! Looks like I got here just in time.” The voice came from the front door where a man in overalls stood with a tool box in hand. “You were right when you said your beer lines weren’t working right. Good thing I’m here now.” The man ambled toward the bar.

  Calla looked at the toolbox and then the insignia on his chest…C and R Distributing. If the newcomer was the repairman, then who was the man standing in a pool of beer at the moment? Her head jerked back to the cowboy, but he was already making his way around the end of the bar and heading for the front door, his boots leaving wet tracks behind him.

  “Wait!” She called out, hands resting on the bar. “I’ll gladly pay for the cleaning of your clothing. If you’ll just tell me…”

  “No, thanks.” With that terse reply, he was gone without a backward glance.

  “Calla, who was that man stomping across the front porch? He looked mad and he smelled of…”

  “Beer,” she finished the question before her sister Lily could. “I know. And I don’t have a clue who he was… is… whatever. It was an accident. I tried to pay for his clothing, but he just stormed out the door.”

  “I can’t say that I blame him. I guess we shouldn’t count on him being a repeat customer.” Lily gave a smile along with the joke she offered. Calla was all out of smiles.

  “What’s up, Lily?”

  “Well, I hate to do this right now with the other issues you’re dealing with, but I was opening the mail, and this came today.” She held out the white envelope in her hand. “It’s from the city and they say we have to remove that delivery ramp you installed last week… something about improper paperwork and building codes and things that sound like there’s a problem.”

  Calla took the paper and scanned over the words, slowly shaking her head. “Of course, there’s a problem. Everything seems to be a problem. We can’t go ten minutes without one around this place.”

  “We knew this wouldn’t be easy, stepping in and trying to take on this dancehall. There was bound to be a few rough spots, but I think things are coming together. Just promise you’ll take a deep breath and count to ten… well, in your case make that twenty or thirty even,” Lily amended. “Before you go charging off to city hall to discuss this. Just remember these are our neighbors, too.”

  “I’ll discuss this alright. No old fart sitting in an office making himself feel important by sending out threats like this to people who are trying to make a go of a business and ante up the taxes that are paying his salary is going to get the best of me. The discussion will be a short one. And that ramp is staying right where it is!” Calla didn’t wait for a reply from anyone. She headed toward the front door, each step punctuated by her anger.

  “Calla just be careful.” Lily called after her sister’s departing figure. “It says you could face fines or jail time or both if you don’t comply. We can’t have you sitting out the grand opening party from behind bars. Are you going now?”

  “Right after I change clothes, so I don’t smell like a brewery.” Some of the beer had splashed onto her slacks before she could jump back from the deluge she served up to the anonymous cowboy. The day just couldn’t get any worse. She was certain it could only get better from that point forward. Right?

  An hour later, still trying to keep that positive thought anchored in her head, Calla pushed through the frosted glass doors on the first floor of the courthouse emblazoned with the words, Mayor’s Office. She had planted the smile on her face as she exited her car in the parking lot. She would do her best to keep it there, if for no other reason than to be able to tell Lily she had tried.

  The limestone and granite courthouse was situated in the center of a shaded lawn known as Courthouse Square in downtown McKenna Springs, Texas. It was one of those picturesque and often-photographed structures found in coffee table books on similar structures, some of which buildings dated back over a couple of hundred years or more.

  As a child, looking up at the imposing structure, it had seemed like a huge castle where a fairytale prince might live with a beautiful princess. At least that had been her little girl’s imagination running wild. Back in the days when Calla was naïve enough to believe men could really be charming princes and sweep you off your feet to your very own castle where only sunshine and butterflies were ever allowed. Boy, did she have it all wrong back then.

  “Good afternoon,” the woman seated behind the dark wooden desk spoke, looking up from the documents in front of her, a pleasant smile on her face. Her expression widened into a grin, reading glasses were pushed to perch on top of her graying hair. “Well, look who’s on our doorstep at last. Good to see you, little Rosebud.”

  Calla paused for a moment, her mind running through the file system in her brain. She should know this person who obviously knew her. There was something… then ‘little Rosebud’ clicked in her mind and the light bulb flashed on.

  “My heavens! Alice Hager.”

  “Well, you do remember the peanut brittle lady and the way I always called you little Rosebud when you were in my Sunday school classes as a child.”

  “I certainly remember you always left a basket of your fresh peanut brittle on our front porch every Christmas. It was the best I ever tasted… and still is.”

  “Yes, and I still do my brittle, but my granddaughters have to help me now since I’m a bit limited these days since I lost a leg bone to cancer.” Her hand tapped the arm of the wheelchair she was seated in. It was the first-time Calla had noticed the physical change in the woman she had known. “The girls have to help fill the baskets and deliver them for me, too. Now that you and your sisters are back at the home place, you can bet there’ll be a basket on that front porch again.”

  “And I don’t plan to tell my sisters about it and I’ll be the first one on the porch on Christmas Eve,” she replied with a laugh, remembering how she and Lily and Jasmine would try to beat each other down the stairs to be the first to retrieve the basket. Children’s games and warm memories made her heart smile again… for a moment.

  “So, what brings you into the Mayor’s office today?”

  Back to the matter at hand. Calla remembered the paper still clutched in her hand. “I want to speak with the mayor about this ridiculous letter that came in the mail today.”

  “Oh my,” Alice said, shaking her head. “He’s running a bit late and when he does get here, he has to go right into a meeting with the county treasurer and fire marshal. I could schedule you in tomorrow possibly… oh no, can’t do that either,” she amended, running her thumb down the schedule page in the book in front of her. “He has to be at the livestock auction most of the day.”

  “Look Alice, I appreciate your position and I know you’re just doing your job, but I must insist that you call this absent mayor who should be here in his office instead of out having coffee or whatever on taxpayers’ dollars and get…”

  “It wasn’t coffee.” The male voice came low and from behind her.

>   No way. She whirled around and then stopped dead still. Yes, things could indeed get worse. The day just hit rock bottom.

  “It was beer. How it got there, we won’t discuss right now. But I had to re-shower and change before coming into this office. And just for the record, the taxpayers do not pay my salary.”

  The nameless cowboy-turned-mayor had changed clothing… a fresh pair of dark jeans, a white shirt this time, and black boots. A black Stetson was held in his hand. Okay… not bad. Not good either for her train of thought which needed to stay on the legal matter at hand. He had also added a healthy dose of the intriguing cologne, much to her added irritation. But Calla was not to be deterred.

  Keep it professional. “Look, I tried to apologize earlier, but you were rude and left in a huff.”

  Green eyes held a snap to them, but he simply shot a look over at the woman sitting in rapt attention eyeing the pair. “Excuse us, Alice. Please call Reid and explain that I’m on my way in a couple of minutes.” His hand was on Calla’s elbow before she knew it and he escorted her inside an office to the left of the woman’s desk. Shutting the door behind them, he released his grip on her.

  “I don’t recall being rude nor going anywhere in a ‘huff’ as you call it. I removed myself from the vicinity of the mess created by you before I did indeed lose my temper. Now, suppose you tell me why you followed me here? Was it my quick wit and charm or my body you couldn’t get enough of?”

  Calla’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Not at first. Then she caught sight of the mocking glint in those green depths and that brought her back to a place she vowed never to be again… the brunt of a man’s joke. She made it to fourteen counting under her breath only because she had promised her sister to do just that and then she spoke.

  “I do hate to break it to you, and chance deflating the male ego, but it’s none of those things. For the record, you are not my type. I have business with this office and what I came here for was to shove this ridiculous piece of paper someplace.”