“What do you know, Marcy Henderson is handin’ out wings to angels,” she said as she slung an arm over Ethan’s shoulders.
“Hey, Marcy,” he said. Since he’d never found Marcy attractive, Ethan had no problem talking to her. Too bad they’d never had anything to talk about. While Sam loved animals, football, the farm, and a multitude of other things that Ethan liked as well, Marcy seemed to like only two things-herself and men. And Ethan didn’t care to talk about either subject. He glanced at the door and wondered how long it would take him to get to it. But before he could even gather Sherman up in his arms, Marcy took the seat next to him.
“Buy a girl a drink?”
Figuring a drink might get her arm off him, he motioned to Manny, who came over to take her order for “Sex on the Beach.” Manny didn’t even blink at the word, but Ethan’s face burned with heat. Or maybe his embarrassment had more to do with the image that flashed into his brain. An image of his parents having sex on the beach in South Padre.
She held a hand to her chest and waved one long red nail at Sherman. “Who let that thing in?”
“Marcy, you know animals have always been welcome in Boot’s,” Manny said as he placed her drink on one of those little napkins. “Especially if they know how to mind their manners.” He reached out and patted the pig’s head. “And Sherman always minds his manners.” He arched a brow at Marcy. “Unlike some people I know.”
Marcy ignored the comment and turned back to Ethan. “It figures that you would have some kind of animal with you. You and that sister of mine can’t seem to stay away from them.” Casting a wary look at Sherman, she eased back onto the stool. “I just had to suffer through two hours of Laverne and Daddy gushing over my sister becomin’ a doctor. Not a real doctor, mind you, but an animal doctor. Geez, what was she thinkin’?”
Ethan wondered the same thing. What had Sam been thinking when she stole his profession? And why hadn’t she ever mentioned the fact to him? Of course, she had written him a few times, and he’d never written her back. He had justified it by telling himself he was too busy with the farm, but in reality he’d been mad at her for leaving in the first place. Hell, he was still mad at her.
As he took another drink of beer, Marcy stuck out a leg and pointed to her red shoe. “Although I got me a pair of New York designer shoes out of the deal. ’Course, now I have to come up with a gift for Sam. Somethin’ that’s never been easy, considerin’ she has the worse taste in clothes of any human I know. Unlike me, who happens to have unlimited fashion sense.”
Ethan glanced over at Marcy. Fashion sense wasn’t the only difference between her and Sam. Marcy didn’t have a cute little button nose. Or a mouth shaped like a rosebud. Or a slim body with breasts that were… perfect. Two perfect swells that looked great in a red sweater. Or a snug Western shirt. Or a tiny, white drill team uniform.
Ethan’s brow crinkled. What the hell? Where had all those images come from? He could understand the red sweater-he’d just seen her in that today-but the other clothes she hadn’t worn since high school. And while he was puzzling over this, some locked chamber in his brain opened up and a wellspring of images flooded his mind. Images of Sam horseback riding, her cute butt nestled against the saddle and her breasts jiggling in a tight T-shirt. Leaning over the corral fence in a pair of tattered cutoffs. Stretched out in a pile of fresh-cut hay in faded jeans and a snap- down Western shirt that showed just a hint of cleavage.
And once those images ended, his mind filled with others. Sam helping him with the birth of a calf and laughing as the wobbly baby cow took its first steps. Sam eating watermelon and spitting the seeds at him. Sam catching her first fish. Sam helping his mother can pickles. Sam sending his father get-well cards when he’d fallen off the ladder.
Sam.
“See anything you like?”
Marcy’s words made Ethan realize too late that, while he’d been thinking about Sam, he’d been staring at her sister’s abundant breasts. As his face heated, she leaned closer.
“It’s a shame, you know.” She tapped his bottom lip with one long fingernail. “You really are cute, Ethan Miller. And I’ve often wondered about those big feet of yours. But as much as I love men, I can’t bring myself to poach on my sister’s property.” She shook her head. “You would think that with all them good-lookin’ college boys, she’d get over you and move on. But nooo, every time she calls she asks a million and one questions. Is he married? Does he have a girlfriend? Is his hair still as blond? His eyes still as green? Even when I mentioned that there was a distinct possibility that you were gay, she wouldn’t shut up.”
Suddenly Ethan couldn’t get his mouth to work. All he could do was stare at Marcy as his heart thundered in his ears. Sam wasn’t over him?
Completely unaware of his stunned confusion, Marcy took another sip of her drink and continued. “I figure it has to do with all those reruns of
“Boots.” The word slipped out of Ethan’s mouth without much thought, especially considering he’d never watched that particular television show in his life.
Marcy shot a glance over at him. “I was going to say shoes.” Her eyes crinkled like two squashed spiders. “You actually noticed what my sister was wearin’? What color was her sweater?”
If Marcy’s plan was to confuse the hell out of him, she was doing a pretty damned good job. Between the things she’d said about Sam,
“Macintosh-apple red.”
“And her eyes?” She leaned closer, her face starting to look intense and scary.
He swallowed. “Deep blue like the sky at twilight just after the last rays of the sun flicker out.”
Marcy plopped back on her stool as if she couldn’t quite believe his words. Ethan knew how she felt. He was pretty stunned himself. Which was why he almost fell off the stool when Marcy reached over and grabbed the front of his Western shirt.
“Now, I realize you like to do things nice and slow, Ethan,” she said. “And I’ll be the first to tell you that, on certain occasions, nice and slow works out real good. But this ain’t one of those times. Sam plans on flyin’ out day after tomorrow.” She smiled slyly. “And if Half-pint is going to get her awkward farmer for Christmas, we have no time to lose.”
Chapter Four
“Y’all!” Cindy Lynn’s high-pitched voice came through the bullhorn she held to her mouth, causing most of the costumed folks of Bramble to cover their ears. “Would you stop yammerin’ and get in your positions? And, shepherds, remember, I said ‘sore’ afraid-that means you’re so scared your muscles hurt. So look hurt!”
Sam didn’t have to worry about looking “sore afraid.” Instead, she had to worry about looking like a complete idiot in the sheep costume Rachel Dean had given her. At least she wasn’t the only one. Being that Bramble was a cattle town, the shepherd’s herd was made up of a good twenty townsfolk and a billy goat that was eating the hem of Moses Tate’s wiseman robe as Moses slept in one corner of the stable.
“Good Lord.” Shirlene Dalton sashayed up in a pretty white dress and huge wings, looking more like a voluptuous Victoria Secret model than a member of the heavenly host. “If Cindy Lynn doesn’t put a sock in it, this angel is going to deliver something more than good tidin’s.” She winked at Sam. “Hey, honey, I heard you were back in town and pretty as ever.” She reached out and adjusted the sheep ears on Sam’s white hoodie. “Which is saying something in that getup.”
Sam grinned. She had always liked Shirlene. Of course, everyone liked Shirlene. The woman was not only beautiful. She was sweet and fun-loving. Not to mention filthy rich. At the thought of all her oil money, Sam’s grin faded.
“I was sure sorry to hear about Lyle’s death, Shirlene,” she said.
Shirlene’s smile never even drooped, but her pretty green eyes held a sadness that spoke volumes. “Weren’t
