Trouble in Cowboy Boots (Sequine, Saddles, and Spurs, Book One)

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An Excerpt From: TROUBLE IN COWBOY BOOTS

Copyright ? DESIREE HOLT, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.

Chapter
One

Emily
Proctor slammed the hood of the car and looked at her two friends.

?I
don?t have a clue what?s wrong with this clunker, but I jiggled everything
I could. See if it starts now.?

They?d
set out from Las Vegas, the three of them, refugees from downsizing, with
nothing but this whale-sized bucket of bolts, a few possessions, prepaid
cell phones for emergencies and the grand total of three hundred dollars
between them. West, there was only California
and LaLa Land
so they?d headed east, away from the desert heat. They?d expected the car
to break down somewhere, just not on a highway with nothing around them
except pastures and cattle. They hadn?t even passed another vehicle in
almost an hour. And it was hotter than nine kinds of hell.

Emily?d pulled her thick mane of sable hair back into a pony tail.
Now she lifted it off her neck where it rested limply and used it to fan
her skin. If this was a nightmare, she wanted to wake up right this minute.

Lola
Lamont wriggled in behind the wheel. One blonde curl from the mass of curls
piled haphazardly on her head and held in place with a clip fell forward
onto her forehead and she brushed it impatiently away. Stretching out her
long, showgirl legs and straightening the t-shirt that barely concealed
breasts that were the envy of every other girl in the shows,
she worked herself into place on the seat. Letting out a long, slow breath,
she carefully turned the key. The motor coughed, gurgled, groaned and finally
turned over with a sound that set all their teeth on edge.

?At
least it started again.? Lola sighed. The 1966 pink Cadillac convertible
was her contribution to their road trip. ?This old gal has been very good
to me.?

?It
may be time to put her to sleep,? Roxie snorted.

?Roxie!?
Lola did her best to look affronted.

?I?m
with Rox,? Emily put in. ?You think this hunk of
junk will at least get us to the next town??

Leaning
against the car, Roxie fanned herself with her hand. ?It better, or we?re gonna burn up like fried chicken.?

?All
right.? Emily dusted her hands off on the seat of her jeans shorts. ?Rox, get in the car. Lola, you drive. Roll all the
windows down to catch some kind of breeze and pray as you never have before
that we hit civilization before this thing rolls over for the last time.?

The
grand adventure they?d tried to make this was turning into a grand pain in
the ass. If they didn?t light somewhere soon they?d be in bigger trouble
than they?d had in Vegas.

No one
said a word as they rolled down the highway, each mile unwinding beneath
them with unbearable slowness. Emily knew they were sending up silent
prayers to the gods and the fates and anyone else who would listen.

Please, please, let us land
somewhere safe.

Just
as the engine was beginning to make threatening noises again, signs of life
emerged. Smack in the middle of the highway sat a town. If you could call
it that, Emily thought. A far cry from the glitz and glitter of Las Vegas.

But it
had a main street, cross streets running into it and, lord have mercy, a
cafe, where the car heaved its last and died.

?At
least we?ll be able to get something cold to drink,? Roxie sighed.

?You
better hope it?s cheap,? Lola warned. ?Maybe we could all share one.?

?Maybe
we could just go inside and see what?s what.? Emily blew a stray hair away
from her face. How in god?s name had she ever thought this would be fun?

??What?s
what? better be a way to get that hunk of junk fixed,? Roxie said, climbing
out of the car.

?As
if.? Lola tugged on her very tight white shorts and brushed at her hot pink
tank top. ?The only way that?s gonna
happen is if we rob a bank or win the lottery.?

?Right
now we don?t even have money for a lottery ticket,? Emily reminded her and
sighed. ?Okay. Let?s go see what?s inside. Hopefully they have air
conditioning or we might sweat to death.?

The
inside of Blue Belle?s looked so cheerful Emily almost threw up. Booths
among one wall were upholstered in what she could only call an electric
blue and the scattering of tables and chairs had cheap vases of artificial
blue flowers on them. Every available space on the wall was filled with
more pictures of bluebonnets than she?d ever seen. Not that she?d seen that
many.

At
three o?clock in the afternoon the place was mostly empty. The first thing
Emily noticed was the blast of cool air that greeted them. The second was
the three men sitting at a corner table. They all looked up as the women
trooped in. If Emily had been in a better mood she?d have checked them out.
Right now all she wanted was cold liquid, not a hot man.

The
three of them plunked down in chairs at a table near the door. Roxie picked
up the menus stuck between the salt and pepper shakers and fanned herself.
A woman in jeans and a blouse the loudest blue Emily had ever seen came out
from behind the lunch counter.

?Y?all
look like you?ve just been dragged through hell,? she commented. ?What can
I get for you??

Roxie
stopped fanning herself and looked at the plastic-covered menu. ?We?ll have
the large Coke.?

?All
of you?? the waitress asked.

?One
coke,? Emily told her. ?Three straws.?

The
woman stared at them for a long minute then shrugged. ?Okay. One Coke.
Three straws.?

?Couldn?t
we each just get a small one?? Lola whined.

Emily bit
back the retort that bubbled up. ?Even a small one is more than two
dollars,? she hissed. ?They probably think they?ll get rich on strangers
coming through.?

The
woman returned with a huge glass filled with the bubbly soda, plunked it
down on the table and slammed three paper-wrapped straws beside it.

?She
probably figures she won?t be getting as tip,? Lola giggled.

?She?s
right,? Emily said and picked up one of the straws.

They
were each taking small sips, savoring the icy cold liquid, when the waitress
returned with two more large glasses of coke and set them on the table.

Emily
looked up at her. ?Um, we didn?t order those.?

?I
know.? The woman?s voice could have curdled milk. ?Your friends over there
did.?

?My friends?? Emily frowned. ?I don?t
have any friends here.?

?You
do now.?

The
voice was deep and so smooth it sent shivers of delight dancing along her
spine. She was vaguely aware of a chair scraping on the floor next to her
and a body folding down into it. When she forced herself to look at the occupant
she nearly lost it. A typical cowboy hat sat atop a head with thick,
sun-streaked brown hair long enough to touch the collar of his chambray
shirt. Hazel eyes with flecks of amber and green were watching her with an
amused look. Sensuous lips turned up in a slight grin that softened the
harsh angles and planes of his very masculine face. Faded jeans covered
long legs that he crossed with one ankle resting on the other knee, giving
her a good look at dusty, but obviously expensive, cowboy boots. Hand
tooled. Emily had seen enough of them on high rollers in Vegas.