Chapter 1 Read online

  “A whole year!” he groaned.

  “Ace Riley, you will be celibate for a year. And before you roll your pretty blue eyes, yes, I have mommy issues and no, they are not resolved, and you will understand when you meet Kelly King that she gets her way, so you might as well let her have it to begin with.” He moaned loudly and rolled his pretty blue eyes anyway.

  Blessed silence filled the room for all of five seconds then her ring tone told her that her mother had fished her phone from her purse. If a ring tone could sound angry, it did.

  She answered cautiously. “Hel o, Momma. It’s awful late for you to be callin’. Everything all right?”

  “Jasmine Marie King, don’t you play dumb with me.

  I’ve been callin’ you every two minutes for half an hour.

  Have you seen the news? That is you, isn’t it? Marryin’

  that blond- haired cowboy?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is. I married Ace Riley at Cupid’s Chapel tonight. You want to meet him?”

  “I’m damn cussin’ mad right now, girl. Are you pregnant?”

  “I am not!” Jasmine choked out the words.

  “Well, why’d you go off and do a damn dumb stunt like that? We’ve been saving for thirty years for your wedding.”

  “Take the money and go on a cruise.”

  “I hate boats and your dad refuses to sleep anywhere but in his own bed. I knew when you went off on that fool notion to buy a café that nothing good would come of it. We will have a wedding and a reception in Sherman. One of those fly- by- night things in Las Vegas can’t be legal and binding. Besides, I don’t give a damn if it is. It’s not legal and binding in my eyes until the marriage license says Texas across the top, so you will redo it, Jasmine. There’s no room for argument, so either you pick out a dress or I will. That’s all you get to choose since you and your groom decided to elope off to Las Vegas. What in the hell were you thinking? I’m planning it for one month from today. We’d do it sooner, but it’ll take at least that long to line up a caterer and get things arranged. It’ll be a true Texas wedding with all the trimmings and I’m spending every dime we’ve saved for it. The guest list is going to be huge and I’ve already called Marcella.”

  “Four weeks from today is Saturday and I’m not closing Chicken Fried.” Jasmine’s headache approached a full- blown migraine.

  “You know that I’ve been planning your wedding since you were born, and by damn, if I decide to have my reception on Tuesday morning at ten o’clock you’ll close that damned restaurant and come to it, young lady. And you’d better have a decent dress for the wedding. Not some hooker dress like you had on in that wedding tonight.”

  Jasmine shut her eyes. She had a month to come up with a decent dress to wear to another farce or her mother would pick out a ridiculously fancy dress with a train that stretched from Amarillo to Beaumont.

  Ace chuckled and she snapped her eyes open long enough to give him a go- to- hell look that meant to leave nothing but a silver belt buckle and pearl snaps on the fancy velvet sofa.

  “Did you hear me?” Kelly King said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jasmine barked then softened her voice and said with sugary sweet sarcasm, “Momma, could we have the wedding on the first Sunday afternoon in July? You choose the place and the hours. We’ll come home to Sherman Saturday as soon as I close Chicken Fried and stay ’til the last dog’s dead at the reception.

  I’ll bring the dress.”

  “I’m looking at a calendar and Sunday, July 1 is out of the question. Your father is scheduled for a confer-ence in Boston. We’ll have it on July 8,” Kelly huffed.

  “What’s done can’t be undone. Tell my new son that I’m lookin’ forward to meeting him. And I will have a backup dress on hand in case you show up with something too plain.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes and said very slowly with gritted teeth, “I will tell Ace, Momma.”

  Ace threw an arm around her shoulder. “That sounded horrible.”

  “It was. In one month we are having a wedding reception that will straighten every blond curl on your head, and we will be getting married again in the great state of Texas because if the marriage license doesn’t have Texas across the top then it’s not good for anything but to put out in the outhouse to use when you run out of toilet paper.”

  He groaned. “Dammit! Jazzy, I’m sorry. Just tell her no, that we’re already married and it is legal.”

  “It’s complicated and she is right. I do know how long she’s waited for this and how important this wedding is to her. I’m her only child and she didn’t have a big wedding, so she’s always said mine would make up for hers. I told you it would be hell to pay!

  Momma will invite everyone in the state of Texas including the governor if she can get Daddy to make the call. And if you think this is a mess, wait until we file for divorce.”

  “Your Momma goin’ to put out a hit on me?” Ace groaned.

  She pointed. “Probably. She might even hire Cole to do the killin’. And you can bet your sexy little ass that she wil start in on me the week after the Texas wedding about my biological clock ticking and wanting a grandchild. She’ll say I owe her one because Pearl got married the right way in Texas and she’s already giving Tess twin boys so we’ll have to deal with that too.” He wiggled an eyebrow and glanced at the king- sized bed. “Does that mean?”

  “It means you can sleep on your side and I’ll stay on mine. It means nothing has changed,” she said. “I don’t do booty calls for friends.”

  “Well, at least you are still calling me a friend and you said my ass was sexy.” He laughed.

  His phone rang and he rolled his eyes.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  “Hello, Momma,” he said.

  “Ace Thomas Riley!”

  “That’s me, Momma, all three names and in the flesh.

  Right here in the fanciest hotel in Vegas in the honeymoon suite with Jasmine King Riley, my new bride. I’ll bring her by tomorrow evening when we get back to Ringgold so you can meet her as my bride. I’m sure you’ve run into her at the café, but I’d like to introduce you formally.”

  “I would have liked to have talked to her and met her formally before you married her. I didn’t recognize that name. You say she works in a café?” Dolly Riley’s voice was two octaves higher than normal.

  “She owns Chicken Fried and she’s the cook.”

  “Dear God, Ace! Did you draw up a prenup?”

  “Never crossed my mind.”

  “I’ll talk to you when you get home. Any other surprises in store?”

  He chuckled. “Momma, are you askin’ me if we’re going to make you a grandmother real soon?” Ace went on. “The answer is no. We did not get married because Jazzy is pregnant. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Disappoint! Praise the lord for that small favor!” She snapped her phone shut.

  Jasmine laid her head on his shoulder and it felt right, proving that friends were a helluva lot better than lovers.

  “We’ve eaten our horny toads. The rest of the calls can’t be that bad.”

  “Horny toads?” he asked.

  “Granny Dale, that would be Momma’s mother who lives in west Texas, says that if you get up every morning and eat a live horny toad, nothing the world can throw at you the rest of the day is so bad.” He laughed, letting out the pent- up tension. “I am imaginin’ both our mothers with horns on their heads.”

  “Well, the cat’s definitely out of the bag and we can’t put it back inside,” she said.

  “Not without getting clawed all to hell,” he answered.

  “Let’s turn our phones off, unplug the room phone, and let them all think we’re usin’ that bed for something other than sleepin’.” He patted her arm.

  She promptly pushed the button on her cell phone. “I wish I’d have thought of that before the news.”

  Chapter 3

  The bed was so soft and Jasmine was so worn out physically and mentally that sh
e wished she could slip beneath the duvet and sheets bare- butt naked instead of wearing plaid boxer shorts and a gray tank top. She’d worked until two that day, flew from Dallas to Vegas on a nonstop flight, and gotten married that evening, then dealt with the fallout all evening. She picked up the tiered server and carried it to the bed. Ace was already on his side of the acre- sized bed, his hands laced behind his head and his eyes on her.

  She set the goodie tray in the middle of the bed and settled down, cross- legged, beside it. “You guys cheat.

  It’s all right for you to go to bed naked from the waist up. Girls don’t get to do that.”

  “Hey, I got no problem with you coming to bed naked all over.” He grinned and chose a bite- sized turtle cheesecake from the server.

  She bit into an enormous chocolate- covered strawberry. “I deserve every bit of this. Stress destroys fat grams and calories.”

  “And there’s a book in the bedside table…” She air slapped him on the tattoo. “Tell me about that thing. Austin says that Rye’s got one too. I know they protect you from women but that Rye’s didn’t work with Austin. But when did you get them, and are you BFFs or something?”

  Even that close, her almost- touch heated the barbed wire up to the burning point.

  “In guy language that BFF shit means something different than you girls stuff about best friends forever,” he said.

  “What does it mean?”

  He ate another cheesecake bite. “Can’t tell you. It’s a big secret and we have to sign our names in blood before we can be a member. Part of the code is that girls don’t get to know what it means.”

  “Oh?” She tucked her chin in and looked up at him through heavy lashes.

  “Have to prick our finger with our own spur. No sissies or preppies can be in our BFF club,” he said seriously.

  “Ace Riley, you are full of pure old stinky bullshit.”

  “That’s what the first letter stands for. Want to keep guessing on the two F s?” When he grinned his blue eyes sparkled.

  “No, I do not. Any members of your club women?” she asked. “I figured a flirty player like you would let women in just to seduce them.”

  “Hell, no! This is a guy’s club,” Ace said.

  “You wear cute little necklaces around your necks to prove it, or do you all have barbed wire tats?” She tried to decide between a tiny cheesecake or a bite-sized tiramisu.

  “Hell no again! And my tat don’t have a thing to do with our BFF club,” he declared.

  “Okay, tell me why you and Rye have one and Wil doesn’t have one, and I’ve never seen one on Raylen or on Dewar, either. Are they members of your club

  “We’re all members of it. We meet at least once a month and everyone tells their wives or girlfriends that they’re goin’ coon huntin’. The tat is something different than the club. Just me and Rye got them.” She propped up on one elbow. “You better tell me because if Cole or his lawyer ask about it, I need to know.”

  “It’s a crazy kid thing.”

  She cocked her head to one side, her dark brown hair curling up on the pillowcase. “I’m listenin’.” Ace sat up and faced her. His arms were muscled from hard work; his abs ripped; and a fine line of soft brown hair trailed from his chest down beneath red plaid pajama bottoms with a drawstring. Jasmine’s fingers itched go exploring to where that hairline ended.

  She sat up and laced them together to keep them out of mischief.

  He sighed. “It was eleven years ago. Rye is actually the youngest among me and him and Wil. Dewar is just younger than him, and Raylen comes in after that. We all ran around together but it was me and Wil and Rye who were the same age. Rye’d just turned twenty- one and we’d been down to Mesquite to the Resistol Rodeo.

  Not a one of us did a damn bit of good that night. None of us had enough points to even go on to the next round of bull riding. Raylen and Dewar are both younger than us and they ride broncs and they’d put us plumb to shame. So we were whinin’ around like three little girls. We were big boys so we could go to the bars and Raylen and Dewar couldn’t so we left them behind and started home.”

  Jasmine was reminded of what her mother said about Granny Dale. “Don’t ask her a question because she begins everything with, ‘In the beginning God made dirt’ and it’ll take her five years to get the answer out.”

  “Anyway,” Ace went on. “We were hitting every bar from Mesquite to Dal as. It was very late or very early, depending on how you look at it. But it was way past two because all the bars were shut down. None of us were sober enough to drive but it was my truck so neither of them was going to get behind the wheel. Rye was carryin’ on about this girlfriend he had. Sabrina?

  No, her name was Serena. They’d been in love since grade school and she’d up and married another man. Wil had passed out in the backseat, and I looked up to see a twenty- four- hour tattoo parlor right there on our side of the road. I pulled the truck into the parking lot and told Rye all three of us were getting barbed wire tats around our left arm so no woman could ever hurt him again.”

  “But why would you and Wil get a tat? Serena didn’t break your hearts,” Jasmine asked.

  “Did I say we were very, very drunk? And remember, we’d stabbed our fingers with our spurs and written our names on the BFF roster sheet, which is in a bank vault under lock and key and protected by armed guards, so in my drunken state I thought I had to take care of Rye.” Jasmine giggled. “How on earth did you get home without wrecking your truck?”

  “It was a real job, I’m tellin’ you, darlin’. A real trick that took an excellent driver to pull off, but I can drive anything with four wheels or ride anything with four legs.”

  “And two legs?” She raised a dark eyebrow.

  “I’m a sweet- talkin’ son of a gun with anything that has two legs.” He grinned.

  “Go on,” she said.

  “Well, Wil woke up enough to tell us he wasn’t getting no tat and went back to sleep. Me and Rye stag-gered into the place. Hell, we didn’t even look around to see if it was decent. It’s a wonder we both didn’t catch something horrible, but anyway, we told the lady what we wanted. You should’ve seen her, Jazzy. She had tats all over her body, at least the parts we could see, and that was a helluva lot of skin. She took Rye to the back room and I followed. She put a barbed wire around his left arm and I bared mine to get the same thing. Wil didn’t even feel sorry for us when we carried on the next day about them hurting.”

  “That was pretty stupid, and I wouldn’t have felt sorry for you either,” she said.

  Ace propped the pillows against the headboard and leaned back. “Okay, now you have to share. You got any tats?”

  “One,” Jasmine said.

  His eyes scanned what he could see. “You’re lyin’ to me— and on our wedding day. I might divorce you in a year rather than you divorcing me.”

  “I’ve got a tat. I’m not lyin’ to you.”

  “Where?”

  His gaze felt like someone was holding a blowtorch to Jasmine. It had to be that damned dress and veil. She’d been a fool to wear the thing and it was supposed to stop making her hot when she took it off. She should’ve worn her jeans and a tie- dyed knit shirt and sneakers. But there it was hanging in the closet when she’d started packing for the overnight trip and she’d decided to play dress- up.

  “Where?” he asked again.

  “On my butt, and nobody, not even Pearl or Momma, knows it’s there. I got it when I bought the café.” He grinned. “I didn’t know they made a tat of a chicken fried steak. Show it to me.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not a chicken fried steak.”

  “Then what is it? Show me. You promised to love, honor, and obey me. I’m orderin’ you to show me that tat. I still don’t believe you’ve got one!” Her eyes widened. “You vowed to love, honor, and respect me. I’m callin’ in that last vow about respectin’

  me and my tat.”

  He inched over toward her with a wicked gl
eam in his eyes.

  “Oh, okay. It’s not that big a deal,” she said.

  “I’m the very first one to ever see it so it’s a big deal to me,” he said.

  She flipped around and jerked down the back of her boxer shorts.

  At first Ace couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d expected a butterfly or a heart, or perhaps the Chinese symbol for love, but not what was right there in bright green and yellow high up on her hip. He moved closer and blinked several times, but it was still there. Why in the world would she get a tat of the John Deere tractor logo: a bulging green square with a yellow deer silhouette in the center?

  She flipped her shorts back up and turned to face him.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why did I get a tat? Why is it a tractor logo?

  Which one?”

  He wasn’t grinning any more when she looked up.

  “All of the above.”

  “I got it because I quit a six- figure job to buy a café that won’t make half that in a year. And I’ll work twice as hard and twice as many hours to make half that much.

  A tractor logo because one time back when Pearl and I were teenagers we got into trouble and our punishment was plowing a field in a John Deere tractor with an open cab. No air conditioning and no CD player, not even a radio. And it taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. Either be smart enough not to get caught, or suffer the punishment without bitchin’. But mostly it was to remind me that I’m in control of where this tractor called life is taking me. And if I’ve ever got a doubt, all I need to do is look in the mirror at my butt.”

  “Fine lookin’ butt and fine lookin’ tat,” Ace said.

  “You are a good friend,” Jasmine said.

  “Not as good as you, darlin’. You saved the ranch, remember?”

  She laughed. “Guess neither of us are as smart as we thought we were, though, are we?”

  Ace snuggled back down in the bed and laced his hands together behind his head again. “Guess not. What was it that got you and Pearl in so much trouble that you had to plow all day?”

  “All day? It was all week.” Her voice raised at least three octaves.

  Ace rolled over to face her. “What in the hell did you two do? Wreck his brand new pickup?”