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I sucked down most of what I had left in my glass and waved a hand to fan the flush on my cheeks. These senior citizens were making me blush.
“Bunco!” someone at another table shouted. After we tallied scores at our table, the mayor and I were surprised to learn we won a round and got to remain at our table. We harmonized in a lovely duet of Na Na-Na-Hey Goodbye as the losers packed up their stuff to rotate to another spot.
“April, I’ll see you Wednesday for my touch-up. My roots are fixin’ to make an appearance,” Amaryllis told her hairdresserApril,not anything with J, as she and Wanda left us. So shoot me. I had her name wrong by two months.
I fumbled for my cell. This was the last game, and in no way did I need to hang around and cocktail more after. I fired off a text to Atley, giving him a best estimate for when we’d be done.
“Who are you texting?” Amaryllis asked like we were teenagers sharing secrets.
“My ride?”
Her eyebrows rose and she leaned over the rickety card table, waiting for me to confirm what she already knew. What it seemed like everyone in Elmer already knew.
“Atley.”
“He’s a good man.”
“And…” I prompted.
“I can’t tell you much else. He keeps to himself but has done a magnificent job with Blue Star. That ranch hasn’t been this productive in a generation. The land is in that man’s DNA.”
Before I could figure out how to ask Amaryllis if Atley was related to Martin Rivers, whom I’d read the magazine article about, the next two players joined our table. Bunco and trash talk kicked into high gear that round. We were all feeling the effects of the tequila by now. The room was noisy, the dice flew faster, and the insults were more outrageous.
By the time the final shout of “Bunco” ended the game, I was sure we’d miscounted our points at least twice and I’d devoured all my popcorn. Amaryllis offered me an end-of-game cocktail at the same moment Atley’s text buzzed on my cell. He’d arrived and was threatening to come inside. I could imagine the pandemonium if he stepped through the lobby doors. These ladies would eat him alive and relish every bite of grade-A prime beefcake.
I declined the offered drink and gave my new surrogate grandma a hug and kiss goodbye.
“Don’t keep Atley waiting.” Amaryllis pitched her voice loud enough for most of the ladies to hear. Shouts of encouragementto “ride that cowboy” and “go get ‘em girl” trailed after me as I left the VFW Hall.
I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks and stumbled gracefully through the parking lot to Atley’s truck, parked at the side of the dusty lot. He stood leaning against the passenger side, arms crossed, hat tugged low hiding his eyes from me and the sun, looking entirely too lickable.
“Hi.” My greeting came out breathless and a silly giggle followed. Hmm, must have been five cocktails. That was my tipsy giggle. I’d not heard it for a while.
“Did you win?” He slowly tipped up his chin to reveal a sliver of his gray eyes, bracketed by the perfect set of sexy wrinkles. The remnants of my ovaries, long since shriveled to dust, burst into flame. Spontaneous combustion was real, and those girls were a fire hazard.
“No, not even close.” Tequila made me bold, and I reached for his belt buckle to drag him forward.
“Did you behave?” He pulled open the door, avoiding my greedy hands as he ushered me inside.
“Maybe?” I squeaked. He delivered a firm swat to my ass as I clambered into his truck. The skirt of my sundress offered enough protection from his smack that I wanted to pout. If I was getting a spanking from a stern cowboy, I deserved a real one.
He slammed the door closed, and I dissolved into drunken laughter.A real one?Like I had any clue about naughty spankings. My sex life had been pure boring vanilla until I met Atley with his dirty mouth.
“Was that my punishment?” I spun in my seat to ask as soon as he got in the truck while I fumbled with my stupid seat belt.
“Maybe.” He backed out of the parking lot and turned on the road toward Blue Star.
“Oh, now you have jokes. Awesome.” I blew a raspberry at him like a snotty little kid. My ballet flats dropped to the floorboards,and I wiggled my cramped toes, missing my comfy cowboy boots.
“You’re a fun drunk.” He shot me one of his rare, highly amused smiles.
“I am not drunk. I am tipsy.” I proclaimed in my most regal voice.
“Alright, darling, you’re tipsy. So how was bunco other than you lost?”
“Fun, funny, lots of gossip, most of it about us.”
“Do I want to know?”
