Destry Page 11

“You good?” I asked when she came back down my way with another cold bottle for me.

“Yeah. No sweat.” She winked and wiped the remaining blood off her hand.

I flinched and pulled my hand into a fist at the next wave of memories that hit me.

“You’re only twenty years old, boy. You sure you don’t wanna wait a bit longer? Gramps had told me that afternoon.

“Nah, I’m going to get my city girl. I’m taking her to the drive in and I’m gonna ask her. I got the ring today. I’ve got it all set up. I pick her up in an hour. I’ve got the picnic dinner all ready to go; her favorite flick’s playing tonight. The stars are out and it’s gonna be something I’ll never forget, Gramps.”

She’d moved in to town a few years back from the city, and from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her, I knew I wanted that girl. She might have been city, but she was my city, and I was gonna have her for the rest of my life.

“Best be hurrying then. Don’t waste any time. Girls like that, they don’t hang around waiting.” Gramps had been spot on, and apparently so had I. It turned out to be a night I wouldn’t ever forget.

“She ain’t her,” Rach said, taking my empties away. I’d been lost in thought for so long I hadn’t realized I’d knocked back half a dozen beers already.

“Come again?” I raised my eyebrows at her while I slid my next drink from one hand to the other.

“You heard me.” She wiped down the counter in front of me with the rag in her hand. “Not all of ‘em are gonna do a runner like she did.”

“And what makes you think that?” I scrunched my brow up at her.

Rach shook her head and looked to the roof before bringing her gaze back to me. “Because why would you be sitting in my bar on a Thursday afternoon when you should be working, drowning your sorrows over a girl you say isn't important? You're the smartest guy I know, Destry. You wouldn't be letting her get to you if you didn't already know she was different.”

I grumbled into my beer as Rach walked off to serve more customers. I had to concede; I had made my mind up early in regards to Amelia being just like that girl who’d broken a piece of me. Maybe, Rach was right. Maybe, I needed to look at her with more of an open mind. Maybe, she wasn’t the spoilt little princess I’d assumed she was. Maybe, I already knew all of that to be true.

The rest of the week flew by in a blur of sweaty, shirtless guys, who were too hot for their own damn good. I hadn’t yet regretted my decision to insist on helping out around the place, and now their gran and pops were staying with family; it seemed like they needed the extra help.

To say I was more than a little surprised at how well the boys could cook, clean and generally take care of themselves was an understatement. Clearly, they’d been taught from an early age how to take care of things. It was refreshing, considering the men who’d been in my life couldn’t even manage to get their own clothing out of the closet on their own. Their clothing had to be laid out for them, lined up for their convenience in the order that they dressed, pressed to perfection, and presented like some kind of twisted fashion show. Much like the women in their lives.

One would think a week wasn’t long to reflect on your life situations, but I’d come to realize very quickly that the life I had been living wasn’t for me. It was a series of acts and curtain calls, ones that were destroying who I really was, who I wanted to be. I was done with it; I was ready to live my own life, for nobody other than myself. I’d already started. Instead of acting the way I had been taught a lady should behave, I’d been myself—my real self—the entire time I’d been here. It was liberating, not having to worry about makeup and pearls, sitting with my ankles crossed and not speaking unless spoken to. I’d rather spend every day of my life working in the beauty of a ranch than stuffed into the most expensive dresses with huge diamonds on my hand.

“Hot damn!” Austin’s low gravelly voice filtered through my thoughts as I stepped out the back door onto the veranda. I turned and found him looking at me with a sexy smirk.

“Hey, look at you all scrubbed up. Hot date?” I asked, taking in his twinkling green eyes; the boy was a looker that was for sure. I was sure he could have his pick of girls; he had that self-assured, cocky vibe about him and he played on it. Always dropping a suggestive comment, and beyond all that, was his naturally tanned and well-cared for body.

“I dunno. You ready?” He smirked his signature look down at me from where he leaned against the railing, his dark gray cotton shirt stretching over his muscled frame.

“Cute, real cute.” I laughed at him, bending slightly to slip my pumps on my feet. I still hadn’t had time to go shopping, so I had the few pairs of shorts and tanks I’d picked up in town; the rest of it was borrowed from Ellie-May. Luckily, we were close to the same size. However, her tendency toward short denim skirts and flannel shirts wasn’t quite what I was used to, but I made them work to my advantage.

“Y’all ready?” Ellie-May stepped out onto the veranda wearing the cutest pink cowboy boots I’d ever seen.

“You think you’re going out the house looking like that, you’re kidding yourself.” Destry’s voice sent a shiver though my body and goose bumps broke out across my skin. No matter how much I tried to be oblivious to him, he continued to have this effect on me. For the most part, we tried to ignore each other. Occasionally, I’d get caught staring or vice versa, so I knew he was looking; however, most times I caught him, he’d have a scowl on his face. Turning my head, I saw him standing behind us in the doorway, one hand stretched up above his head holding onto the doorframe. From the corner of my eye, I did a slow sweep of him, taking in his boots and well-fitted worn jeans. His shirt was riding up, giving a peek of his gloriously ripped stomach. A happy trail of hair demanded my eyes follow it until it disappeared into the low-riding edge of his jeans, framed by hips anyone would have trouble not wanting to reach out and bite. Hell, I almost lunged at him from across the porch.

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