Of all the things he was proud of in his life, being there for the people he cared about was at the top of the list. He didn’t know exactly how fate had conspired to convince Marisol that the world was an ugly place, but he knew she didn’t deserve ugliness. She was a good person, a standout in a world full of people who failed to make a lasting impression. There were some people you met and immediately knew you wanted them in your life for the long haul, and Marisol was one of those people.
She was smart, funny, and generous with her expertise in a way not many people in the music industry seemed to be. She always took time to talk to the artists who approached her looking for advice, even though she had a full client list and wasn’t looking to add to her roster. She never snubbed the newbies or the crazies, and even when she dismissed people—the way she’d dismissed the blonde last night—she did it in a way that built them up instead of tearing them down. He hadn’t been happy with her methods at the time, but looking back Bubba could see that Marisol had only insulted him in order to make the situation less embarrassing for the woman who was standing there exposed.
Marisol was definitely a keeper. His libido would have preferred to keep her closer than he kept his friends, but when he’d looked into her eyes and glimpsed a sadness so deep he couldn’t see to the bottom of it, compassion had surpassed lust. He would eventually find another woman he was attracted to, but Marisol might not find another person stubborn enough to break through her nearly impenetrable defenses. He could sense that she was at a crossroads, and this might be her last chance to turn off course before the shell around her grew too hard to crack.
Bubba knew folks who had walled themselves away from the world for one reason or another, and the thought of Marisol becoming one of those lonely, isolated people made him sadder than he’d felt in a long time. Yes, the world could be a hard place, but it could also be a place of wonder and joy, and he meant to prove it to Marisol before it was too late.
The next morninghe rose early, intending to have coffee waiting for Marisol and continue their conversation before he left for work. But by the time he’d dressed and started into the kitchen at a quarter after six, her room was empty, and a note on the kitchen table said she’d taken his truck into town.
His timing was still off, a trend that continued throughout the rest of the day.
It took far longer than usual to get the calves separated from the rest of the livestock, and even longer to sort the males from the females. He and Cole headed down to the house for a late lunch around one to find Laura Mae had run into town to fetch Pedialyte for her grandsons, and taken the leftover ribs with her, probably planning to drop them off at the old folk’s home before they went bad. Cole made do with a freezer-burned burger he threw on the grill, but Bubba was left to force down one of his mother’s diet frozen dinners, a low-fat concoction that left his stomach demanding the rest of the meal long after the last bite.
The afternoon continued to be a frustrating, stop-start affair plagued by bad luck that resulted in far fewer castrated calves than he and Cole had been aiming for. When they burned through the last batch of fly spray, which they needed to spray on the animals, long before they ran out of penned calves, both brothers admitted they’d be better off calling it quits, and getting a fresh start early tomorrow.
By the time Bubba threw in the towel a little after five o’clock, he was past ready to call it a day. All he wanted was a beer, a hot shower, and another beer—in that order—but when he staggered into the kitchen covered in dust and blood, he found his mother’s fridge alcohol free. Laura Mae’s car was still gone, and Marisol wasn’t back with the truck, so he hurried outside to catch Cole before he started for his girlfriend’s house, but by the time Bubba thudded down the porch steps his brother’s truck was already pulling out onto the highway.
He was cursing his luck, and trying to decide whether his beer craving was worth bugging John and Lily about borrowing a car, when his cell rang. He tugged it out of his back pocket, hoping it was Marisol calling to say she was on her way home, to find Mia’s name on the screen.
“What’s up?” Bubba said, with a weary sigh. “I hope you’re calling to tell me you’re on your way to pick me up to go have a beer.”
Mia laughed. “No, but if you’ll get your butt down to the Blue Saloon, I’ll buy you a round. Clint started the new happy hour today. The beer doesn’t seem to be watered down, and there are free corn nuts. So it’s basically the most exciting thing to happen to Lonesome Point in at least a decade.”
“At least,” Bubba agreed with as smile.
“And Tulsi and Marisol are making everyone line dance, so you should definitely come. It’s going to be good times. Especially for a Monday night.”
Bubba frowned. “Marisol’s with you?”
“Yeah, she’s great! She’s already solved all my Port-a-Potty problems with a phone call to some guy she knows in San Antonioandgot me a killer discount. I’m so glad you brought her home,” Mia said, before adding in a softer voice. “Didn’t she call you to let you know where we were? I saw her on the phone a while ago. I would have called earlier, but I assumed you’d already been invited.”
Bubba sighed again, a frustrated sound this time. There was no doubt in his mind that Marisol was deliberately avoiding him, and using his friends to insulate herself against any private discussions. But he wasn’t going to tell Mia the truth, and risk her taking a dislike to Marisol on his behalf.
“I was up at the pens with Cole until a few minutes ago,” he said instead. “Service gets sketchy up there. I’m sure the missed call will pop up sooner or later.”
“So how was your first day back in the saddle?” Mia asked. “Long?”
“Long,” Bubba agreed. “With lots of screaming calves and kicks to the gut and no saddles.”
“Poor baby. Sounds like you need beer. And corn nuts. Come join us. Sawyer’s here so you won’t be crashing girls’ night.”
“All right.” Bubba started back into the house. “Let me see if I can borrow John’s truck and I’ll be down as soon as I shower.”
“Call me if you can’t find a ride. I’m tipsy, but Sawyer’s only had one beer, and he’s willing to come get you if he needs to.” Mia fell silent for a second, before she laughed. “He says he’ll even take my truck so you two don’t have to cuddle on the Harley on the way back.”
Bubba smiled despite his foul mood and sore chest. “That’s sweet of him, but he knows I love a good cuddle. If he comes to get me, I want a ride on the chopper.”
Mia laughed. “I’ll tell him so. See you soon, Bubs.”
Bubba ended the call and placed another one to Lily, who said she’d put the truck keys on top of the hood so he could get them whenever he was ready. Forty minutes later, he was showered, shaved, and pulling into the Blue Saloon Hotel’s parking lot, grateful to find a spot near the entrance to the bar. The hot shower had helped ease the ache in his chest, but his legs felt like they were made of rubber after the long day wrestling calves.
He plodded up the steps, certain he barely had enough energy left to get his ass to a bar stool, but when he saw the scene playing out on the saloon’s small dance floor, his exhaustion vanished in a wave of shock.
Across the room, Marisol was leading a group of women in a line dance so sexy every male gaze in the room was glued to the dance floor. That in itself wasn’t shocking—Marisol was an amazing dancer, and Bubba had seen her strut her stuff enough times to know she wasn’t shy about working what the Good Lord gave her—but the fact that Mia and Tulsi were both bumping and grinding behind her was enough to make Bubba do a double take. He’d seen Mia dance once or twice. Never anything with quite so many hip swivels, but he at least knew she was capable of moving to music. Tulsi, however, was a different story.
Tulsi Hearst was a hoot once you got to know her, but with all but her closest friends, the petite blonde was one of the shyest people he’d ever known. She didn’t talk to strangers, didn’t make eye contact until she’d met someone at least twice, and never made a spectacle of herself in public. The one time Bubba had seen her dancing, it had been at a Farmer’s Market Third Thursday, twirling in sweet circles with her six-year-old daughter, Clementine.
And despite the fact that Tulsi had jokingly propositioned him a few weeks ago when they’d both had a little too much to drink, Bubba secretly thought of Tulsi as asexual. Sure she was a girl, and a pretty one, with her big blue eyes and soft blond curls falling in glossy waves to her shoulders, but she didn’t have a sex vibe.