Life Is A Beach: Life Is A Beach / A Real-Thing Fling

“Now,” Slade said as he straightened. “Wait till I’m seated, and then push the red button.” His body brushed against hers as he edged past her and out of the tight corner. As he passed, she was assailed by pure, clean masculine odor. Not fragrance, as in aftershave or cologne, but a natural male scent of musk and a couple of other unidentifiables. This disconcerted her almost as much as his touch. She’d expected him to smell good. But not great.

He smiled in that engaging way of his, one eyebrow cocked, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. She had noticed his smile before; why did it seem so appealing now?

She made herself concentrate. Peer through the lens, focus, and next all she had to do was push the little red button. It was when she looked up that she realized with astonishment that Slade had gone all remote. His face was immobile, his eyes glazed over. He looked like a clone of Mount Rushmore.

It had happened before: Freeze-up. Some people might be affable and congenial as all get-out before you switched on the camera, but as soon as they realized they were being taped, they were afflicted with the inability to move their tongues and lips in any semblance of casual conversation. They became so self-conscious in front of that lens that nothing, but nothing, could make them snap out of it.

This was all she needed. At the moment she wanted to get this taping over with and scurry home to the Blue Moon, which seemed like a safe haven after this debacle.

“Slade,” she said, because she’d learned in some psychology course eons ago that using a person’s name gave you an edge, made him really pay attention to you, “we’re just going to chat normally.”

He nodded, but stiffly.

“So,” she said as she pulled a chair over to one side of the deck out of camera range. “How about stating your full name first?” This was usually easy for clients who were wary of the camera. People always were able to say their own names with a minimum of stage fright.

“I thought we already did that.” His tone was flat, his voice expressionless.

“Excuse me?”

“On the form you filled out today. I gave you my name.”

“This is for the tape.”

“Uh.”

“So go ahead and tell me your name.” She smiled her encouragement.

“My name’s Slade Braddock. Do I need to spell it?”

This was proving to be even more difficult than she had anticipated. “No, that won’t be necessary.” She could edit out the comments that didn’t need to stay in. She’d had to edit like crazy for Jennifer and Mandi, especially Jennifer, who had given a very realistic imitation of an orgasm on tape. Or maybe it wasn’t an imitation—who knew?

“Now, Slade, we’d like to know what you do for a living.”

He stared at her for a moment. Not that she minded. She liked it when he looked at her. But they weren’t getting anywhere with this video.

“Slade?”

He licked his lips. “I guess you know I don’t like this much.”

“That’s okay. Just answer the questions the best you can.”

“You wanted to know what I do for a living?”

“Yes.”

“I run a herd of cattle up Okeechobee way.”

It was like pulling teeth to get the man to talk. If she hadn’t known he was perfectly capable of conversation, she’d be willing to quit. Some part of her was exultant at this development, though. The worse he looked on the video, the less appealing he’d be to the likes of Jennifer and Mandi. Still, it was her duty as the matchmaker to display him at his best.

Maybe if he talked about his work in more detail, he’d forget his self-consciousness.

“And what kind of cattle are they?”

“Why, they’re Braford cattle, most of ’em.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that breed of cattle.”

“That means they’re part Brahma, part Hereford. Braford.”

He’d warmed up a little, but not much. “And how big is the herd?”

“Oh, it’s plenty big.”

“Perhaps you could describe the ranch,” Karma said encouragingly.

He smiled genuinely for the first time since the interview had started. “Well, there’s a big old house. Not real old, mind you. My daddy built it in fifty-eight, so it’s got what they call mod cons. It overlooks a pond where you can see ibises and great blue herons and sometimes a little ‘gator that we call Abner. Cute little guy. ‘Course, Abner could be a girl. Hard to tell. There’s a barn beyond the live oak trees, and you can just barely see it through the Spanish moss. That’s where the horses stay, and once we had some goats. They sure were fun to raise. And—”

He went on about the chickens that his mother had kept and how he liked to gun his pickup through the ditches, and all Karma could think of was that now that she’d gotten him started, he was going to be hard to shut up. His face was lit up, alive, and he was so sexy when he talked about something that was clearly near and dear to his heart. She couldn’t imagine why this man hadn’t been scooped up by some girl, someplace, some time ago.

“And I guess that’s about all you’ll be wanting to hear about the Diamond B Ranch.” He looked slightly embarrassed.

“Our clients might like to know more about Okeechobee City,” she prodded gently.

“Well, Florida is a major beef producer in this country. Lots of grass up Okeechobee way, and it grows lush and green all year ’round. Why, the western states have nothing on us, since we had our own range wars, rustling, and fence-cutting to worry about back in the late 1800s. Life on the north side of the lake has calmed down a tad now, but it’s still cow country. And how do I fit in? Admirably. Right now, I’m just one lonesome cowboy lookin’ for a wife,” he said.

“Your hobbies? The things you like to do in your spare time?”

“I don’t know if you want to hear about that.” He gazed down at his feet.

“Of course we do. Our clients like to get an idea of what they might be talking about on a date if they choose to follow up on you.”

“Oh, okay, then I might as well tell you. I like to watch birds. That’s my hobby.”

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said he liked to practice bull riding or steer roping or even sky diving, but bird watching? There was no way she would have guessed that this big rawboned cowboy was interested in birds, of all things. She had to admit that she was fascinated.

“I like to get up in the morning, walk out into the sunrise when it’s just skimming a bit of gold light over the pond. That’s when I see the best ones. I saw a rare roseate spoonbill a couple of weeks ago. They’re about as fanciful as a bird gets. You ever seen a picture of one?”

Karma shook her head, entranced.

“They’re bright pink in color, kind of like a flamingo. Prettiest thing you ever saw, but a roseate spoonbill has got a funny clown face. Almost makes you laugh when you see it.”

“I see,” said Karma. What she saw was a man who felt passionately about something that was important to him. If she had thought that Slade Braddock was shallow, and she conceded that maybe she had, she knew better now.

“But I’m sure you don’t want to hear anything more about that,” he said, lapsing into silence.

“Oh, no, I was interested. It’s just that—that we don’t like to let our videos get too long. A short interview usually lets our clients know enough to make a choice.” She got up and stopped the camera, removing the cassette. “I’ll take this back to the office and edit it. I should be able to offer this for my female clients to view next week.”

“Next week! What do you mean, next week?”