and he grasped her hand and walked her to the car, then waited for her to sit in the driver’s seat. “Are you sure?” His mouth hovered so close to hers, she could feel his breath.
“Very sure.” She brushed her lips over his and he groaned.
“Drive safe.” He shut the door.
Never in Beth’s thirty-one years had she envisioned herself going to a motel with a complete stranger.
Mack isn’t really a stranger. He was a popular local musician, and her gut insisted she had nothing to worry about.
Then again her gut had gotten it wrong with Brad.
“Damned tractor broke down again.” Mack’s brother Conway entered the bunkhouse and removed a bottled water from the fridge.
“Thought you finished harvesting the pecans last week,” Porter said.
“I’ve got a few acres left.” Conway nodded to Mack, juggling fruit. “What’s he up to?”
“Merle Haggard is getting ready to run off and join the circus.”
“Real funny.” Mack caught the pieces of fruit and glared at his brothers. If he wasn’t tied in knots over Just Beth he might challenge Porter to a scuffle after being called by his proper name.
Grandma Ada had insisted that their mother name all her sons after country-and-western legends because she loved their music. Mack didn’t buy the story. No matter what any of his siblings thought, he believed his mother had been dropped on her head as a baby, leaving her judgment permanently impaired. He and his brother Willie Nelson had taken nicknames after they’d entered kindergarten, and the teasing led to playground fights and weekly trips to the principal’s office.
“Can you guys be serious for a minute?” Mack asked.
“Sure,” his brothers answered in unison.
Porter Wagoner was still single like Mack, and Conway Twitty, who everyone had believed would remain single the longest, had been the second Cash brother to marry. He was already the father of six-year-old twins with another set on the way early next month. Maybe Mack should talk to his eldest brother, who always gave sound advice. “Never mind. I’ll stop by Johnny’s before I head out of town.”
“Johnny and Shannon are in Payson at a rodeo,” Conway said. “They took little Addy up there to show her off to Shannon’s friends.”
Fine. “You guys ever have a one-night stand with a woman you could swear isn’t a one-night-stand woman?”
The brothers exchanged puzzled glances then Porter spoke. “What are you talking about?”
Mack set the apples and orange in a bowl and paced in front of the TV. “I met this woman at the Number 10 Saloon last month before Christmas when the band was playing a gig there.”
“And you went back to her place after the bar closed,” Porter said.
“Am I telling this story or are you?” Mack asked.
Porter held up his hands. “Sorry.”
“So we make eye contact and—” Mack pointed his finger when Porter opened his mouth “—the sparks are there. We go to a motel—”
“Which one?” Conway asked.
“Does it matter?” Mack scowled. “We’re at the motel and while we’re becoming acquainted and...stuff, I get this feeling that she’s not really who she is. You know what I mean?”
“No,” his brothers echoed.
Frustrated, Mack shoved his fingers through his hair. “She dressed like a buckle bunny, but she drank red wine.” And she drove a Lexus.
“I’ve never dated a girl who liked wine,” Porter said.
Conway scrunched his brow. “Come to think of it, neither have I. The girls I dated drank beer.”
“Did you search for her on Google?” Porter asked.
“I’m not a stalker,” Mack said.
“What’s her name?” Porter asked. “Maybe I know her.”
“Beth.”
“Beth what?”
“Just Beth.”
Porter and Conway exchanged glances. “Did you get her number?” Conway asked.
Mack’s face burned and Porter hooted. “She wouldn’t give you her number, would she?”
“No.”
“There are hundreds of women who’d fall all over themselves to date a musician,” Conway said. “Why are you preoccupied with a one-night stand?”
Mack opened his mouth then thought twice about telling his brothers the truth—they’d laugh him out of the bunkhouse. “Never mind.” He grabbed the duffel bag he’d filled with clean clothes. “I’d better get going.”
“Isi’s put a roast in the oven,” Conway said. “Stay for supper. The twins would love to throw the football with you.”
That was another thing that bugged Mack—his sister-in-law had taken the last single Cash brothers under her wing after Buck had married Destiny and moved to Lizard Gulch. When Mack had learned that Isi had lost her brothers at a young age, he’d grudgingly accepted her hovering. Meddling women aside, the dude ranch was an hour’s drive from the farm, and there was nothing between here and there but a dilapidated ice house that sold year-old beer and stale snacks. “I guess I could eat before I take off.”
“Good.” Conway headed for the door. “Porter, you’re washing the dishes tonight.”
“What are you going to do?” Porter trailed Conway outside.
“Work on the tractor.”
“You’re always tinkering with the tractor.” Porter’s voice filtered through the open windows. “I don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with the engine. You just don’t like doing household chores.”
“You ever try to help a woman who’s eight months pregnant?” Conway’s voice began to fade. “It’s like facing a charging bull...”
Once his brothers were out of earshot, Mack closed his eyes and envisioned his body entwined with Beth’s. He’d had a one-night stand with a woman named Just Beth at the El Rancho Motel.
There was no doubt in his mind that he’d pleased Beth, but there had been something off about her behavior—almost as if going to a motel with a man had been a first for her. When she’d snuggled against his side after they’d made love, he’d wondered if maybe he was ready to settle down.
Except Beth wasn’t what he was looking for in a wife—he wanted a girl-next-door type. She was a woman who went to a motel with a man she’d met only hours earlier. Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d asked for her number but she’d refused to give it to him—a first for him. Her rejection had left him with an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.
Why the heck did it bother him that Beth didn’t want to see him again? Was he losing his touch with the ladies? Mack popped off the bed, took his duffel and left the bunkhouse.
“Uncle Mack!” Conway’s son Javier raced toward him, his brother, Miguel, hot on his heels.
Mack set the bag in the truck bed. “Where’s Bandit?” Mack scanned the yard but the dog was nowhere in sight.
“He’s in the house.” Javier squeezed Mack’s thigh. “How come you’re never here anymore?”
He ruffled the dark mop of hair. “’Cause my job is far away.” He broke free, walked