The Big Girl's Guide to Buying Lingerie

9. GOODBYE 36-C

Drained and still hung over by the time I’d reached San Antonio, I slept the day away, not even bothering to check my email.  By the time I woke up, it was too late to call Robbie.  The plan had been to call him tomorrow but when Her Motherness had showed up on my doorstep demanding to meet my new fiancé--and pass judgment on him--all I could think of was get rid of her, fast.  I’d scrambled for a plan, finally settling on taking her to the dancehall.  The Bluebonnet wasn’t her type of scene and she’d want in and out as fast as possible.  After a quick dinner and a long hot shower, I’d prepared myself for battle, putting as much energy into my hair and face as I had the night of my date with Robbie, and prayed he wouldn’t make a public scene--unlike me. 

I was right.  She’d been more than willing to sit at the bar to minimize contact with the natives while I tracked Rowdy down and begged him to help me. 

As much as I had no right to, my options were limited.

I’d almost lost my nerve at the scornful expression on Rowdy’s face when I wrapped my arms around his waist.  And my legs had nearly buckled when he’d pulled me into his arms and slow danced me around the floor.  He’d felt so good, damn him. 

Why couldn’t he have been the man I wanted him to be?  Why did Her Honorable have to show up out of the blue?  So much for hashing things out over the phone.

I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t attracted to him.  Robbie, not Rowdy.  But my brain still had trouble connecting the dots between the two.  Something I’d better get over and quick.  Since I’d officially agreed to horsy-sex with him, I better get over it real real quick.  Of course, if he kept kissing me like he had out in the beer garden, I didn’t foresee any problems. 

Recalling the look on HH’s face at the sight of Robbie and I together, and at the sight of Robbie hollering for a beer, I grinned in the dimness of my mother’s BMW.

From his broken in Levi’s and faded t-shirt advertising a local restaurant, to his battered, straw cowboy hat and dark blonde goatee, Robbie’s whole attitude said “I didn’t shave because I didn’t feel like it.” 

Not only was he the antithesis of Allan, he wasn’t the type of man my mother would ever be able to lead around by the nose, and I adored him for it.  He was gorgeous in a rough and tumble, good-natured way she’d never see or appreciate. 

“You picked him just to spite me, didn’t you?” Her Honorableness commented as she sped up the highway. 

I rest my case, Your Honor.

“I picked him because I love him,” I glibly lied.  Personally, I’d wanted to cheer when he’d given HH his “My Women” speech. 

“That little girl was horrid.  And that little kissing display was disgusting.  A lady doesn’t act like that in public.”

“Cool,” I muttered, my eyes still on the passing scenery.  We were only minutes from my townhouse.  “Sure...whatever.”

“Cool?  Sure?  Ballard’s do not act like trashy bar women, but I see now you’ll do as you please with your train wreck of a life, no matter what I say!”

The sudden jerk of the car caused my head to bang against the passenger window, snapping me from my daydreams of more Robbie kisses and nightmares of Sunday Supper Interrogations with his family.  I winced at the sudden sharp pain in my skull, thankful once I’d opened my eyes that they’d been closed and I’d missed HH’s reckless driving. 

We had crossed three lanes of traffic to take the wrong exit and were now speeding up the access ramp way too fast.  Being dead was a great excuse to miss Sunday supper.