Lone Star Rising

Robbie took up the fork and slid in a mouthful of omelet. It was absolutely perfect. Parson eyed her while she chewed, so after she took a sip of the milk he’d poured for her, she conceded, “It’s Zack Trueblood. He…I don’t know. He makes me…uncomfortable.” Robbie couldn’t admit, even to herself much less to Parson, that the word she was really searching for was more like bothered. Hot and bothered, actually.

“Uncomfortable? He ain’t pressing himself on you or something?” Plainspoken for sure, that’s what Parson was.

“No! Zack would never press himself on anybody!” Robbie wasn’t sure why she defended the man so strongly. The heroic way he’d tried to save Danny, she supposed. She took another bite of omelet.

“Then how come your cheeks is redder’n a hot chili pepper? Listen, little sister, if he’s coming around all nice like, doing favors and all, you’d best watch yourself. Ain’t no woman as defenseless as a widow with—”

“Woo! Lordy!” Nattie Rose’s cheery voice cut off Parson’s rant as the diner’s other waitress burst through the back door. “It is raining pitchforks out there! Bet we’ll be swamped today!” Nattie Rose Neuberger—always called by both nicknames and never by her given one, Natalie—bustled into the kitchen, perfectly groomed in tight-fitting jeans and a starched Western shirt, raring to go, as always. She was carrying a pair of immaculate white athletic shoes with fire-red laces. She plopped onto a stool and tugged off battered, rain-soaked cowgirl boots.

Robbie shoveled in the last of her eggs, grateful to be delivered from Parson’s meddling lecture. From out in the restaurant came male voices, the sounds of the first customers trickling in. Robbie peeked out of the swinging door to see Zack Trueblood and his friends sliding into their usual booth.

“Can you take care of those guys?” Nattie Rose said. She was still tying her red laces.

“Somebody needs to take care of those guys,” Robbie mumbled as she squeezed past Nattie Rose’s perch on her way out with the coffee. All three of the single firefighters were well-known about town as the most eligible of the eligible bachelors in Five Points. Nobody knew, except Parson of course, that the most handsome of them had been to Robbie’s house twice now. And nobody needed to know. Robbie adopted a carefully neutral expression as she approached the booth.

“I saw her in there hanging out with some guy with a popped collar,” the one named Mason was saying. “I swear the dude had a manicure.”

Zack and his two friends chuckled. Then the firefighters all turned to Robbie, mumbling, “Hey, Robbie,” like they did every morning.

“Hi, fellas.” Robbie angled her washtub of a belly away from the table as she poured the first mug of coffee and the men resumed their chatter. They were all good-looking guys. Not pretty boys, but handsome in a rough-cut way with easy smiles and square jaws. And Zack Trueblood was by far the best-looking of them.

“So. What’s she doing with some weirdo at the bookstore,” the third guy was saying. “I thought you two had a thing going.”

“Nah.” The resonance of Zack Trueblood’s voice so near to her body sent a tiny thrill through Robbie, but she wouldn’t let herself look at him, bad as she wanted to. Not in front of these men. “I don’t have any claim on Lynette. She can hang out with whoever she wants.”

Robbie felt a rush of heat to her cheeks as she realized they were talking about some woman Zack must be seeing. She found she had to steady her hand as she proceeded to pour the last two mugs full.

“It doesn’t bother you, even if the guy’s some kind of metrosexual pinko?” Mason pressed.

“Metrosexual?” the third firefighter scoffed.

“That’s urban talk for girly-man.” Zack grinned. The men chuckled again.

Mason waved a paw at Zack. “Ah. Right. I forget. The great Zack Trueblood doesn’t have to worry about competition, especially from some girly-man. Bet you’ve already turned down old Lynette every night of the week.”

“Mason—” Zack’s tone turned the name into a warning “—cool it.”

Robbie didn’t look at him, but she could sense Zack giving her an embarrassed glance.

“I dunno,” the third firefighter went on in a longsuffering tone. “Much as I want to see you get that award, Zack buddy, it’s always a pain to round up a woman to take to these formal dress-up things. How am I supposed to find a lady who knows how to wear anything besides jeans in a town like Five Points?”

“Hey.” Mason pointed at him like he’d just had a bright idea. “Maybe you could take the metrosexual.” They all guffawed at the joke as Robbie started pouring the last mug.

“You’ve got to take ’em out a time or two beforehand,” Mason advised. “Give ’em time to get all excited and shop for a dress. Or you could be like Zack here and find yourself a rich divorcée.” He turned to his friend. “So, you’re still taking her out tonight?”

Robbie’s eyes grew more alert and involuntarily cut to Zack. He was frowning up at her. And she was pouring coffee over the side of the mug and all over the table.

“Whoa!” Mason cried at the same time Robbie realized what she’d done.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Robbie said as the firefighters snatched wads of napkins out of the holder.

“It’s all right, sugar.” The third one pressed some napkins into the mess.

As she nervously sopped up the coffee, Robbie could feel Zack Trueblood’s hot black eyes examining her closely, but she refused to look directly at him. Her hands shook as the faces of all the single women in Five Points flipped through her mind like cards in a Rolodex.

“Hey, girl. You feeling okay?” Mason seemed to notice the depth of her distress for the first time. He took over with the napkins, bless him.

“I’m fine.” Robbie sighed. “It’s just this crazy weather. I was just thinking about my boys—hoping they don’t get soaked waiting on the school bus.” Oh, sure. Now she was thinking about her boys. Thinking how she had no business worrying about whether Zack Trueblood was dating some woman or not. She glanced at Zack’s face. He was still frowning at her.

Mason peered out the window as fresh sheets of rain beat the windows. “Personally, I just love it when it does this,” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah,” his friend, equally sarcastic, chimed in. “You know we’re gonna get called out to fish some yahoo out of a ditch.” And then the men were off and running again, complaining about the weather and the constant problem of flooding roads and bridges in the Hill Country.

Except Zack was still looking at Robbie with an expression that said he was worried about her. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed outside the window as he said quietly, “Everything okay, Robbie?”

Robbie nodded, swallowed. Don’t look at me like that, she wanted to say. It makes me weak in the knees and I have work to do here.

“You guys want the farmer breakfast?” Robbie said as she gathered up the last of the soggy napkins.

“Yep,” Mason answered for them all.

Nattie Rose’s round face popped under the pass-through space. “I’ve gotta help Parson back here, honey. Could you take care of those guys at table nine?” That’s where the Rotary-types were and Robbie was well aware that Nattie Rose was making sure Robbie got the generous tips today.

The men at that table kept up a jovial banter about the weather as Robbie poured coffee into upturned mugs for all four.

“The usual for you guys?” Robbie said with a falsely light tone.

When the men nodded she was glad to dash off to the kitchen.

Back in the safety of Parson’s domain, she nearly collapsed against the center island. She’d made a complete fool of herself, pouring tea for Zack in her slummy little kitchen yesterday, basking in the warmth of his attention, telling him how she’d love to cook spaghetti for him sometime, when all the time the man had a hot date lined up for tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Parson asked.

Lord, Robbie was sick of people asking her what was wrong.

Nattie Rose zipped around, already getting flushed with the challenges of the day. “Look sharp, my lovelies. The masses are hungry.”

Parson turned back to the grill.

Robbie took down three plates and started to fill them. Biscuit. Biscuit. Biscuit. She took up the ladle. Gravy. Gravy. Gravy.

Nattie Rose joined her at the island to work up some of the orders.

“Do you know who Zack Trueblood is dating these days?” Robbie asked casually, while her heart hammered with a fresh wave of humiliation.

“Some gal from over at Wildhorse. Divorced. I hear she’s got a big ranch.”

Robbie’s hands kept working but her heart felt like it had clutched to a standstill. A rich woman with a ranch. Isn’t that just what any man would want?