Love Drunk Cowboy Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    “¡Este padre!” A wide grin split Lobo’s face.
    “He says that’s awesome.” Rye walked right in without knocking. “I forgot to tell you about the eggs I put in the fridge this morning. The grocery store called yesterday and said they were there. Granny had ordered them six months ago so I picked ’em up and stored them in her fridge. Didn’t have room in mine. We’ll color them tomorrow. I’ll be here early. What time do you get up?”
    Felix headed toward the door. “Lots of cháchara .” He motioned at all the knickknacks sitting everywhere on every single flat surface in the room.
    “What?” Austin asked.
    “ Cháchara . Junk.” He waved again at it all.
    “You got that right.” She smiled. “I’m going to the bank now. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
    “ Si. We can take the pickup to town for food when you get back, yes?”
    “Did Granny let you do that?”
    He nodded and wiped his eyes. “Yes. Once a week on Friday night we go to town and buy food.”
    “Then that’s fine.”
    “We thank you, Miz Austin,” Felix said.
    “How long have you been working here?”
    “Forty years. My father was here before me. Estefan and Lobo are my nephews.”
    “Then you knew her well.”
    He nodded and said on his way out the door, “Miz Lanier was a great lady even if she did like the cháchara .”
    “Are you ready?” Rye asked.
    She picked up the checks. “What makes you think I’m going to dye Easter eggs tomorrow? I’ve got enough to do without that on my plate too. You can come and get them in the morning and do them yourself, but not before ten.”
    Rye didn’t argue but held the door open for her. Her heel sunk into the dirt when she stepped off the porch and he quickly slipped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. She looked up with those big round blue eyes and he had to stop himself from kissing her right there. It was a crazy feeling: If the woman was drugs, he’d be addicted the first time his lips met hers.
    “That was almost a disaster. I guess high heels aren’t any good on a watermelon farm, are they?” She blushed.
    “Guess not.” He grinned.
    But if they make you fall into my arms, then by all means wear them every single day. I’ll take a chance on the addiction.
    He drove back into town, past the cemetery, the watermelon shed, the grain elevator, the school that had had a much needed face-lift, the Baptist church on the left, the community center beyond that with the old boarded-up Methodist church on the next corner, and then the funeral home. On the right was the Church of Christ and the grocery store, then a building that Granny said the Watermelon Jubilee crew had bought to rent out for special occasions like birthday parties and baby showers, and then the Mini-Mart on the left facing Highway 81, with a fire station, a car fixing place, the telephone company, and a café in between. When he reached the highway he turned right and pointed the car to the north.
    “It hasn’t changed a lot since I was a kid,” she said.
    “People move in and move out. Population stays about the same.”
    “Didn’t there used to be a grocery store on the other side of the street? Somewhere about where the fire company is now?”
    “That’s right. When I was a kid, my folks brought us over the bridge to the Fourth of July festival. Terral always had the best fireworks show in this area and there was a store there that still sold penny candy and put it in a little brown paper bag.”
    If he didn’t look at her, he felt like they were back on familiar ground. Talking about things like they did on Thursday nights but one glance and poof! Every intelligent thought slipped right through his mind and he wanted to touch, taste, and feel. All of which would most likely bring about one reaction and that was a solid slap on the jaw.
    “I was here one time for that. We sat in lawn chairs up by the Methodist church and I got all sticky eating cotton candy,”