Flint, Her Cowboy Boss

1. Ronnie

Ronnie

“They’re fine,” my grandmother’s voice startles me from the doorway.

I pull the blankets over the two boys sleeping soundly on the bottom bunk. They have their own beds, but the twins still often end up falling asleep together on the bottom bunk.

They are the reason my heart beats now. So many times during the first days of their lives, I worried I’d lose them. But here they are five years later, healthy and happy. They’re energetic little monsters that I get to spend my days chasing around.

I leave the room and send her a glare with no heat behind it. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

She follows me to the kitchen with the chipped linoleum flooring. I put on the electric kettle for her nightly tea. It’s bright blue and a little dinged up, a perfect thrift store find that makes me smile every time I see it.

“What are you doing?” She fusses at me. “Get out of here.”

“Just making tea first,” I tell her. Normally, I’d join her for a nightly round of tea before leaving to start my second job as a stocker at the grocery store down the road.

Since I’m between official jobs, I’m juggling gig work in the day and grocery stocking at night to keep the lights on.

It’s not easy, but like a lot of single mamas, sleep is a luxury I’ve long since given up on.

“You’re nervous.” She pins me with that same knowing look she gave me when I was sixteen and first showed up on her doorstep as an anxious girl trying to figure out what the world looked like without her daddy to lean on.

Thirteen years later and I still miss him every day.

They don’t make them that tough and steady anymore.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I answer, setting out her chipped cup with the rose pattern from the seventies.

“You look beautiful.” She reaches for the matching sugar dish, her gnarled fingers shaking as they wrap around the spoon.

We’re lucky to have each other. She watches the boys while I work nights, and the three of us live with her in this falling down shack.

It’s not much, but it’s a roof over our heads.

Even if that roof leaks more often than not.

Her words register, and I pause to glance at the blue dress that hugs my figure like I was poured into it.

It’d be easy to think I paid money for a fit this tight, but no, it was in the back of my closet.

Too many chicken nuggets for dinner followed by a milkshake gave me this figure.

I don’t care that I’m fat. So, what if my thighs jiggle when I walk and my hips catch on the corner of the kitchen counter?

This body has carried the two most special boys into the world.

“I don’t even remember the last time I was on a date. ”

“You look at me right now, Ronald Davis Hunter.”

My gaze flicks to hers at the use of my full name.

My dad insisted that this birthright would give me an advantage in life, but as a little girl, I was ashamed that I didn’t have a name like Megan or Amanda.

Now, years later with a degree in business management, I can’t say I’m unhappy with it.

I suspect it’s opened more doors than most hiring managers would ever admit out loud.

“Head up. Shoulders back. My girl is a warrior,” she repeats the words my father used to speak over me.

I follow her instructions, lifting my chin and putting my shoulders back. I take a deep breath. “I’ll probably be back early.”

“No, you won’t. You take these three days, just like you planned.” She goes back to focusing on her delicate cup.

I pour her hot water, pass her a teabag, and wipe away the spilled sugar on the table. “Okay, but I don’t care if it is my birthday weekend, if you or the boys need me for anything, I want you to call.”

The smile she gives me is patient. “Go. You’re only young for a few minutes in life.”

I glance at my nearby clutch purse and the black duffel bag by the back door. Three days at an old motel from the sixties sounds like an amazing time. It’s been lovingly restored by a couple to make it look just like it did back in its glory days.

The motel stay is a gift to myself that I’ve saved up for patiently.

The hot guy that may or may not show up is a gift from my best friend, Mira Moore.

She runs a company selling pet food, and she’s a total bad ass.

But when I told her I wanted something fun to ride for my birthday, I never imagined she’d rent me a cowboy.

Of course, she’s busy in love with her own cowboy these days. She hired him to interrupt her wedding, and he took the groom’s place. The next thing I knew, the two of them are madly in love, and she’s spending half her time here in Asheville and the other half on Valor Ranch with the cowboy.

At the thought of Valor Ranch, my stomach flips. That’s where my new job starts in just four weeks. It even comes with room and board which means I can get the boys and my grandmother out of this rundown rental house. I hope going to the ranch will be the start of our new life.

Mira doesn’t know about my new job just yet. I went to tell her on the phone the other day but then the boys had an “incident” in the ball pit. Some kid bit another, and I had to grab the twins before they could join what was quickly turning into a skirmish with strangers they’d never even met.

They have more energy than I know what to do with. It’s one of the things that worries me about leaving them with my grandmother. She tires easily these days even though she’s active with the boys. I worry they’ll be too much for her to handle.

I open my mouth to express all of this, but she calls my name. “Do me a favor.”

“What can I do?” I ask, setting the dishcloth beside the sink. Maybe I should wipe down the counters one more time before I leave.

“I need you to get the fuck out of the house, dear.” Her swear actually prompts a laugh from me because it’s so rare to hear from her.

I move back to the table, pressing a gentle kiss to her weathered cheek. “I’ll see you in three days.”

“There’s my girl. Go do whatever it is kids on dates do now.” She waves me off and takes the remote. She aims at the combination TV and VCR player we found at a thrift store a few months ago. The tape jumps, but her favorite action hero shows up on screen.

“Take me away, Sylvester,” she murmurs before sipping her tea.

I chuckle and shake my head as I leave the house, pausing to lock up behind me.

Then all I have to do is climb into my aging Toyota, lay hands on the dashboard, and say a silent prayer that Reba the Reliable stays reliable.

Reba purrs to life, and I let out a breath.

It does seem like everything is falling perfectly into place for my little adventure.

“Wow,” I breathe the word out softly as I step into the lobby of The Far Out Lounge.

It’s the kind of place I’d expect to see on a sitcom about the sixties.

My heels sink into the plush orange carpet as I survey the lime green couches dotting the space.

On the walls are retro advertisements for office supplies, far-flung destinations, and even one for a shaving product.

“Hello, ma’am. How may I assist you today?” A young boy who can’t be older than sixteen asks me. He’s dressed in a bright orange suit that he confidently carries off. Apparently, management believes this should feel like the true experience.

I hurry forward and get through the check-in process. Things are tight now, but I booked this birthday stay almost a year ago, and it’s non-refundable at this point. That’s another reason that Grandma kept encouraging me to go. She pointed out that there was no sense in losing money.

I decline the clerk’s offer to carry my bag to my room. I sling it over my shoulder and accept my key. It’s an actual metal key, not a cheap plastic key card.

When I step to the side of the motel and see the pool complete with fake palm trees dotting the landscape, I can’t help smiling. This is perfect.

Even though it’s late, I’ll still put on my cute swimsuit and lay out by the pool. It’s not about the setting sun. It’s about soaking in the vibes.

The clerk told me when I was checking in that the place is mostly deserted this week. Something about a small group that canceled at the last minute. Lucky me.

My room is one of only nine rooms on the property. It’s painted a shade of yellow green that reminds me of a tennis ball. Somehow, the bedspread matches the walls. But when I plop down on the bed and give a little bounce, it’s obvious the mattress is in good condition.

Across from the bed is a couch and armchair, both in a bold print that reminds me of something I’d see on The Jetsons. The kitchenette area contains a round metal table with two orange chairs and a coffee maker that’s the only modern feature in the room.

I let out a happy sigh. This was the perfect way to spend my birthday weekend without being far from home if the boys need me. I feel like I’m a million miles away, even if I’m not.

I check the time on the starburst clock above the couch and see I still have a little over an hour before I’m supposed to meet my cowboy at a bar down the street.

I change into my vintage red swimsuit and apply lipstick stain to match.

Then I grab my book and saunter out to the pool lounger that’s a few feet from my room.

“Best vacation ever,” I tell myself as I settle onto the lime green lounger that creaks under me. I relax and imagine how amazing it’s going to feel tomorrow when the sun is full and bright. I swipe on my reader, fully intending to enjoy a few pages of the latest spicy romance.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I look up at the sound of a gruff voice that doesn’t belong to the motel clerk.

A man in denim blue jeans and a faded purple flannel button-up is staring down at me.

He pulls off his Stetson to reveal stunning blue eyes.

They’re almost violet and surrounded by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man.

He could go into modeling with looks like those. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” I repeat the word, looking around. Perhaps he’s mistaken me as part of the group that canceled at the last minute.

“Yeah, see, Heaven is that way,” he points up, his beard moving as he smirks. “Which is clearly where you fell from.”

I chuckle, surprised by the flirting. He looks young, early twenties if I had to guess. I’m nearly thirty, and I know that the last five years of exhaustion already show on my face. “Has that bit ever worked on a girl?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me an “aww shucks” look. “First and only time using it.”

“Well, here’s a bit of honest feedback, consider working on it some more,” I answer, softening the words with a small grin. I’d forgotten how good it feels to have a man find me attractive.

He strokes that beard, and I want to know what it feels like between my thighs. “Maybe we could do that over dinner.”

“I have a date tonight,” I tell him, sort of regretting that. What would it be like to have a wild night with this handsome, bearded stranger?

“So, ditch him.”

“I don’t like bossy men,” I say even as my heart flutters. My mind is spinning with the possibilities. I don’t even know this man, but I’m on vacation. Does it matter if I don’t know him? It’s just a bit of fun.

“Fine by me. You can be the boss then.”

“Then leave me alone.”

“Hmm, minor problem, boss. I’ve never been good at taking orders.”

My phone dings, a reminder I set so I’d have time to get ready for my date. If he tells me to cancel it again, I just might. “I have to go.”

“Okay, but when you come back tonight, I’m going to knock on your door.”

“And then what happens?”

A woman could get pregnant from the panty-melting smile he gives me. “Well, maybe you could try bossing me around again.”