The Barefoot Summer(39)

“Hot enough for you folks?” the DJ asked when the first song ended. “Well, turn up the air conditioner and enjoy the Monday madness. We’ll play ten of the most popular songs from last year in a row. At the end of the ten songs, the thirteenth caller who can tell me what month these were on the list will win two tickets to Six Flags Over Texas. First one is Carrie Underwood’s ‘Heartbeat.’”

“Was it February or March?” Kate asked as she kept her foot steady on the gas pedal. She’d listened to country music every day on the way to work at the oil company, on the way home, while she took her shower, and sometimes while she did extra work at night so she wouldn’t be behind the next morning.

When they made trips to the barn to unload the hay, she got out and helped stack the bales, but she kept the engine running so they could hear the music. By the time Waylon sent a text calling it a day, she’d put away four of the Cokes and six waters and was still thirsty. Never before in her life, not even at the gym, had she sweated so much or felt so grimy. Lord, she’d have to have her Caddy detailed and fumigated by the weekend if she rode home in it every day smelling like hay, sweat, and dirt.

She drove the loaded truck to the barn and parked it, bailed out, and headed for the bathroom. Using brown paper towels from a dispenser, she cleaned up as best she could with cold water. By the time she returned, Waylon was helping the guys unload the last of the hay.

“Good job. The guys say that you can drive for them anytime and that they like your music,” Waylon said. “Would you like to stay for supper? I’ve got a couple of steaks laid out to throw on the grill.”

“I’m filthy dirty,” she said.

“So am I.” He smiled.

Her stomach growled—a steak did sound really good. “So you can cook?”

“You bet I can. It’s not far to the house, so we’ll walk. Do you cook?”

“I can make soup from a can and a mean ham and cheese sandwich,” she answered.

“You any good at putting together a salad?”

“I can manage in a pinch.” Her long legs matched his stride with no problem.

He opened the gate for her and stood to one side. The yard sported a big pecan tree on each end and a nice wide screened-in porch.

“Kick off them shoes. We don’t stand much on ceremony. We’re pretty laid-back out here in the hinterlands.” Waylon sat down on the back porch steps, yanked off his boots, and padded barefoot over to a garden hose curled up in the yard. He turned on the water and sprayed the dust from his feet and then leaned over and wet down his dark hair. “Damn, that feels good. Come join me.”

When in Rome, Kate thought as she removed her sandals and set them on the porch. The polish on her toenails was badly chipped, and her feet looked like she’d walked a mile in a sandstorm. Thank goodness she’d washed her face in the barn bathroom or it would probably look the same. But then she was on a ranch, not going to a fund-raiser.

If everyone jumped off the cliff, would you follow them? I told you to get a mani-pedi two weeks ago. I can’t believe you are wearing sandals when your toenails look like that. Her mother’s voice in her head faded quickly when Waylon squirted her feet and all the way to her knees with cool water.

She could practically feel the cold stare of disgust if Conrad had seen her washing up with a garden hose. He’d expected her to maintain the image that he wanted. She banished him from her thoughts and concentrated on getting as clean as possible.

“Hey, did you find anything out about that girl you asked us about. Stella?”

“Estrella,” Waylon said. “We checked on her after I called and leaned on the florist again. Conrad sent flowers to her address once, but they were for her sister. Both the sister and Estrella had a rock-solid alibi, so that didn’t pan out and that’s more than I should be saying. Want your hair done?” He changed the subject.

“I’ll pass on that, but my hands and arms won’t.” She held them out.

He squirted the water up to her elbows and then turned off the hose. “There are paper towels on the porch.” He motioned for Kate to follow him. “Want a cold beer while we get supper going?”

“I’d love one.” She dried her hands and arms with paper towels and tossed them into a trash can.

Cool air greeted them as he opened the door into the house. He went straight to the refrigerator, took out two cans of icy-cold beer, and handed one to Kate. “Bottoms up.”

She pulled the ring at the top and drank deeply. “Tastes great after a long hot day.”

“Nothing like it.” Waylon nodded. “Have a seat and catch your breath. I made a little hash brown casserole, and it’ll take five minutes to heat it in the microwave.”

“I need to make the salad,” she told him. “I’ve been sitting all day, remember?”

“Then we’ll get to it.” He nodded. “I got to admit that I was surprised when you showed up. I expected you to be some hoity-toity city gal who didn’t know the gear shift on a hay truck from the back end of a cow.”

“Or from the underside of a bull?” Kate asked.

Waylon spewed beer all over the tabletop. He grabbed a towel and wiped up the mess. “I was damn sure wrong about you, Kate.” He whistled as he lit a gas grill in the middle of the stove burners.