Call Me Irresistible (Wynette, Texas #5)(37)

"The Roustabout's an institution around here," Ted said as Skipjack finished polishing off a platter of ribs. "It's seen a lot of history. Good, bad, and ugly."

"I sure do remember the ugly," Skeet said. "Like the time Dallie and Francie had an altercation in the parking lot. Happened more'n thirty years ago, long before they were married, but people still talk about it today."

"That's true," Ted said. "I can't tell you how often I've heard that story. My mother forgot she's half my father's size and tried to take him down."



       
         
       
        

"Damn near succeeded. She was a wildcat that night, I can tell you," Skeet said. "Me and Dallie's ex-wife couldn't hardly break up that fight."

"It's not exactly the way they're making it sound," Dallie said.

"It's exactly the way it sounded." Kenny pocketed his cell after checking on his wife.

"How would you know?" Dallie grumbled. "You were a kid then, and you weren't even there. Besides, you've got your own history with the Roustabout parking lot. Like the night Lady Emma got upset with you and stole your car. You had to run down the highway after her."

"It didn't take too long to catch up," Kenny said. "My wife wasn't much of a driver."

"Still isn't," Ted said. "Slowest driver in the county. Just last week she caused a big backup out on Stone Quarry Road. Three people called me to complain."

Kenny shrugged. "No matter how hard we all try, we can't convince her that our posted speed limits are only polite recommendations."

It had been going on like that all evening, the five of them entertaining Skipjack with their good ol' boy patter, while Spence, as she'd been instructed to call him, soaked it in with a combination of amusement and the faintest hint of arrogance. He loved being courted by these famous men-loved knowing he had something they wanted, something he had it within his power to withhold. He dragged his napkin over his mouth to wipe off some barbecue sauce. "You've got strange ways in this town."

Ted leaned back in his chair, as relaxed as ever. "We're not hampered by a lot of bureaucracy, that's for sure. People around here don't see the sense in all kinds of red tape. If we want to make something happen, we go ahead and do it."

Spence smiled at Meg. "I think I'm about to hear a paid political announcement."

It was long past time. She was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in her choir loft and go to sleep. After her disastrous caddying round, she'd spent the rest of the day on the drink cart. Unfortunately, her immediate boss was a stoner kid with minimal communication skills and no idea how her predecessor had set up the beverages. How was she to know that the club's female golfers were addicted to diet Arizona iced tea and got huffy if it wasn't waiting for them by the fourteenth tee? Still, that hadn't been as bad as running out of Bud Light. In a curious case of mass self-delusion, the club's overweight male golfers seemed to have concluded the word light meant they could drink twice as much. Their bellies should have pointed out their faulty reasoning, but apparently not.

The most surprising part of today, however, was how much she hadn't hated it. She should have detested working at a country club, but she loved being outside, even if she wasn't allowed to drive all over the course the way she wanted and had to stay parked at either the fifth or fourteenth tee. Not getting fired was a bonus. 

Spence tried to sneak a surreptitious look down the top she'd fashioned from one length of the rehearsal-dinner silk wrap she now wore with jeans. All evening, he'd been touching her, tracing a bone on her wrist, caressing her shoulder, the small of her back, feigning curiosity over her earrings as an excuse to rub her lobe. Ted had taken in every touch and, for the first time since they'd met, seemed happy she was around. Spence leaned in too close. "Here's my dilemma, Miz Meg."

She edged nearer Kenny, something she'd been doing all evening until she was practically in his lap. He seemed oblivious, apparently so used to women hitting on him that it no longer registered. But Ted was registering, and he wanted her to stay put, right where Skipjack could paw her. Since his easy smile never changed, she didn't know how she knew this, but she did, and the next time she got him alone, she intended to tell him to add "pimp" to his big, impressive résumé.

Spence toyed with her fingers. "I'm looking at two sweet pieces of property-one on the outskirts of San Antone, a city that's a hotbed of commercial activity. The other in the middle of nowhere."